Blinded by Love and Daring
by dettiot
Summary: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Follows Holding Your Breath and Jumping Off a Cliff.
1. Chapter 1

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 1/?

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T for now

**Summary**: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the**ink in my pen ran dry** series, following **Holding Your Breath** and **Jumping Off a Cliff**.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: I am so appreciative of all the kudos, comments, and reviews I've gotten on the previous two stories in this series. It's so awesome to hear that people are enjoying my work! So I hope you keep enjoying, especially since there's a lot of Oliver & Felicity interaction in this first chapter. :-)

_The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring_. Annie Dillard

XXX

Publisher's Weekly, November 12, 2012  
><strong>Ex Astris In Trouble?<strong>

Five years ago, Ex Astris was a new imprint with an impressive mix of highbrow talent and popular bestsellers. Not many niche imprints could boast publishing authors as diverse as Oliver Queen (_The Frat Boy Way:_ _Life and Women According to the World's Most Successful Frat Boy's Twitter Account) _and Felicity Smoak (_Invading the Treehouse: Why Women Are Needed in Technology_). They were a flagship of the publishing boom in the early days of the e-book revolution, packaging their books with exclusive electronic content.

Times have changed, though. The disappearance of Queen and the attack on Smoak seemed like bad luck at first, yet it touched off a string of unfortunate misfires for Ex Astris. Their revenues have fallen steadily for the past two years. The news last week that they were shutting down their office in San Francisco and cancelling several forthcoming paperback editions has prompted gossip that the imprint desperately needs a bestseller-and fast.

Publisher's Lunch, November 15, 2012  
><strong>Where Are They Now?<strong> (excerpts)

_**Oliver Queen**_: The first author to parlay a Twitter account into a book deal, Queen used his playboy image to promote his PW best-seller, _The Frat Boy Way:_ _Life and Women According to the World's Most Successful Frat Boy's Twitter Account_, in the fall of 2007. A rumored follow-up was thwarted when the Queen family yacht went down at sea with Queen on board. His disappearance sparked off a media frenzy and sent his book back up the best-seller lists for a brief time. His return last month after five years has begun another frenzy. It's uncertain what Queen's plans are when it comes to publishing.

_**Felicity Smoak**_: Already well-regarded, Smoak was on the verge of becoming a breakout star, preceding Sheryl Sandberg and Anita Sarkeesian in talking about the role of women in technology and how their challenges impact society. But then she was attacked by an enraged anti-feminist. Caught up in her recovery and the recently-concluded trial, Smoak has only published a few articles in the last five years. She recently reported on Twitter that she is currently beginning work on a collection of those articles, to be published with a foreword touching upon her experiences. Publication date is TBA.

XXX

Oliver stomped across the concrete floor of the Foundry, his hand tight around his bow. Only Shado's training kept him from slamming the bow down on one of the tables. Because you respected your tools, even during failure-because it was never the bow's fault for the failure. It was yours.

And all he had been doing lately was failing.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver rubbed his fingers over his eyes and pushed aside the self-doubt as best he could. He needed to find a solution to the problem. Because so far, any names he had crossed off the List were due more to luck than skill or planning. And that wasn't acceptable.

Admittedly, the task of saving Starling City was even more daunting than he had imagined. And Oliver's own shortcomings were becoming clearer.

He didn't have the tech skills that seemed more and more necessary to bring the criminal element to heel. The plans and strategies he developed weren't good enough to handle unexpected complications. He could go toe-to-toe with the hired muscle guarding the bad guys, but he felt useless when it came time to take out the head of the monster.

Add in an altogether too insightful bodyguard and Oliver felt like he was at his wit's end.

Stripping off his hood and jacket, Oliver rolled his shoulders before heading over to the salmon ladder. Perhaps the physical activity would help him figure out what to do with John Diggle.

The bodyguard had been his mother's idea-actually something between a request and a plea. When Oliver had come home after a rare Hood success bruised and bloody, Moira had seen him before he could clean up. Caught, he had spun a lie about running into a few street toughs who held against him the closure of the Queen Consolidated factory in the Glades. He hadn't thought anything of it, until two days later when his mother had presented John Diggle to him.

Oliver set the bar in the bottom rung of the ladder and began climbing, feeling his muscles tense and release, his mind moving into that zone where he could sometimes find the unorthodox answers he needed.

How to handle Diggle? Oliver knew the ex-soldier had suspicions about him. He had seen too much to buy Oliver Queen as a playboy, no matter how much Oliver stressed the act. And Diggle wasn't shy about calling him on his bullshit. That very morning, when Oliver had come downstairs from his bedroom, Diggle was waiting in the foyer and reading _The Frat Boy Way_. His bodyguard's expression as he looked at him over the top of the book was so loaded with mocking disbelief, Oliver had ditched Diggle as quickly as he could on general principle, let alone needing to deal with James Holder being taken out by another player.

So how could he get Diggle to stop speculating about what Oliver was really doing?

_Tell him the truth_.

With a snort, Oliver paused at the top of the ladder. He could just imagine how well that would go. He doubted Diggle would be willing to turn a blind eye to Oliver's nighttime activities.

Besides, this was his crusade and his alone. There wasn't room for anyone else.

Lifting himself up in a series of fast pull-ups, he focused on the growing burn in his muscles. Focused on what he could do, focused on being stronger and better than he was a minute ago.

Such improvement was only possible in a physical sense.

XXX

Raking a hand through her hair, Felicity stared at the computer screen in front of her. The blinking cursor was just sitting there, blinking at her. Mocking her. Whispering that she was never going to write another word again. Taunting her that she was going to fail and leave her publisher in the lurch, end up evicted and broke, forced to move back to Vegas and become a cocktail waitress like her mom . . .

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her chair back. Her brain was her best and worst friend.

Maybe some coffee would help.

Standing up, she crossed over to the coffee pot and refilled her mug, then leaned back against the counter as she slowly took a few sips.

As seductive as self-doubt and perfectionism and procrastination were, she couldn't let herself be sucked in by them any more than she already had been. Her apartment was sparkling, she had redone her nails at least once every day, the DVDs had been reorganized twice and she had deep conditioned her hair three times in the last week. Any attempts at beginning the foreword for her article collection had seen her type a sentence or two before realizing it was awful and just deleting it. And anything that seemed not bad at first grew utterly pedestrian and cliched as she read it over.

So it wasn't surprising that now she was letting her mind spiral out into the worse of the worst-case scenarios while belittling herself. It was a bad habit-quite possibly her worst one. One that she had felt like she had managed to deal with, before her attack.

After that . . . she wasn't sure she had managed to deal with anything.

Felicity rubbed her thumbs against her mug. She was getting the sinking suspicion that the foreword wasn't coming because she didn't know what to say. And an author had to start from a place of having an opinion, a thought, _something_ to express. Given how she could babble about anything or nothing, it was ironic that she had nothing to say about an event that was so important to her.

Her fingers went to the scar under her ear, stroking it unconsciously before Felicity pulled her hand away. There had to be some way for her to get something down for the damn foreword. Perhaps she just needed to start somewhere else. Not at the beginning, since the song from _The Sound of Music_ lied in claiming it was a good place to start. The foreword wasn't just about her: it was about explaining the themes of the articles included in the collection, giving readers an understanding of what they were about to read. She could do that.

And maybe . . . maybe she just needed to do some research. Check out some memoirs from the library, see how she could approach talking about what had happened to her. After all, there was no need to reinvent the wheel-she wasn't the first woman to be attacked for her views. Taking a page from other authors might be what she needed to get over this hump.

Now that she had a plan, Felicity felt more energized. Sticking her tongue out at her computer, she shut the laptop's lid and went to put on some clothes. She would head over to the library, and then she would reward herself with a trip to that new coffee shop.

XXX

Starling City Examiner, November 27, 2012  
><strong>Police Blotter<strong>

The body of a man with an arrow through some sort of prosthetic eye implant was recovered from a downtown office building last night.

Eye on Starling blog, November 27, 2012  
><strong>Tweet Tweet: What Starling City Is Talking About<strong>

Jitters is making me consider cheating on my regular coffee shop. I feel so dirty. - felicity_smoak

Saw the Vigilante last night! #epicbeatdown - ninja1207380

omg can't believe the line verdant! - missylou

Anyone else nervous about going to the Glades tonight? #needabodyguard #whitegirlproblems - uknoit

#badCalifornian because I prefer Big Belly to In 'n Out. - bradtheman

US Weekly, December 3, 2012  
><strong>Oliver Queen: Spotted!<strong>

The recently-returned billionaire and co-owner of the hottest club in Starling City was seen outside a local coffee shop twice this week. Handsome as ever, it appears Ollie has become a caffeine junkie thanks to running Verdant-that's why he's been stopping in at Jitters, a new coffee shop in the Glades. Reports say he's very fond of the eggnog latte-so ladies, start stocking up on that holiday concoction!

XXX

After five years struggling to survive, exhaustion was relative. Yes, most nights he might only be getting four hours of sleep at a max, but Oliver was slightly pleased to find he wasn't feeling the lack of sleep.

Partly it was due to sheer willpower-but another part was thanks to the new coffee shop that had opened around the corner from Verdant and next door to Big Belly. With extra-strong coffee, Jitters had quickly become one of the most popular coffee shops in the Glades. And he only knew about Jitters and Big Belly thanks to Diggle.

It wasn't necessarily what he had wanted, bringing Diggle on board. But when his bodyguard had been poisoned and the only hope was taking him to the Foundry and giving him some of the island herbs . . . well, it was the only thing he could do. Diggle was still wary about what Oliver was doing, but he was already proving how valuable he was. Not just for backup and strategy discussions, but in helping Oliver keep all the elements of his double lives from slipping through his fingers.

That was what helped lift some of the burden from his shoulders, let him not feel so beat-down. Made him feel like he was actually making a difference. Doing what he had set out to do. There was still the pain of having to lie to his family, to Tommy. But he could manage that. It was to keep them safe.

Covering his mouth with his hand as a yawn managed to break through, Oliver shifted his feet as he waited in line at Jitters. Digg was meeting him here; he had stopped in at Big Belly to check on Carly, since there had been a robbery attempt at the diner a few nights ago. The buzz of his phone made Oliver check his texts.

_please god coffee_.

Oliver snorted a little at Tommy's message. His best friend had stayed until close at Verdant, while Oliver had ducked out due to vigilante business, while telling Tommy a hot brunette had taken up his evening.

_ jitters now good timing. usual?_

_Y x2_. He must really be suffering if he wanted two coffees, but it was Tommy's funeral.

The line was moving slowly and Oliver had just started messaging Digg to ask if he should just get him coffee and they would meet at Verdant, when the voice of the woman at the head of the line made him hit send with the message only half-written.

Because he knew that voice.

Craning his neck and taking advantage of every inch of height, Oliver tried to see if it was who he thought it was.

The woman was the right height, he thought. But her hair, pulled back in a curly ponytail, was blonde, not brunette. Her coat was a bright purple, vibrant in the sea of black and gray and navy. Her hand, with painted nails in a shade of neon orange, fluttered up around her face for some reason as she scanned the menu board.

It couldn't be Felicity Smoak.

But he wanted it to be her. More than he could understand, more than he had realized. Enough that he had to make sure. So even though it would mean having to wait even longer, Oliver stepped out of his place in line and moved towards the counter, drawing up alongside her. She must have seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she glanced over distractedly.

Oliver could see her tense after a moment, as if she suddenly realized who was standing beside her, before she slowly turned her head to look right into his eyes. Behind the lenses of her glasses, her eyes were large and blue, just like they had been five years ago. When his last glimpse of her was seeing her shock as he kissed another woman.

And just like five years ago, he felt his gut tighten with the impact of having Felicity Smoak look at him.

The change in her appearance was dramatic. Before, she had seemed so . . . contained. Like she didn't want to attract attention, didn't want to be noticed. But now, with the blonde hair and the bright colors, she made you want to look at her.

Or perhaps it was just about distracting people from the things she didn't want to be noticed. Like the scar he could just see under her left ear, one which left a lumpy patch of too-pink skin on the side of her neck.

"Oliver," she said, sounding breathless.

Her voice was the same, at least. It still sparked the same reaction inside him. Oliver pasted on his playboy smile. "I thought it was you, but I couldn't tell until I got close. It's good to see you, Felicity."

It shouldn't be possible for her eyes to get any wider, but they did as her fuchsia lips parted. "You remember me?"

"Of course," he said, trying to sound bland and not reveal what he was feeling. Which was a combination of amusement, curiosity and worry. She made him want to smile for real. He wanted to know more about her. And he couldn't help wondering why she still seemed so very Felicity, after everything that had happened to her, when he had gone through the same thing but didn't ever feel like Oliver.

"Miss? Excuse me, miss?"

The voice of the barista made Felicity jump and turn back towards the counter. "Yes! I'm sorry, yes, you're waiting for me. Tall mocha with an extra shot, please, and I'm so sorry, I'm feeling a . . ." She paused, and glanced over at Oliver again, looking like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then she pushed her glasses up a little, a gesture that seemed unconscious, and smiled. "I'm feeling a little scatterbrained this morning," she finished, looking back at the barista.

With a bored nod, the barista held his hand out for payment and Oliver quickly stepped in. "It's on me," he said, pulling out his wallet. "Add a large black coffee, too, please." He gave the barista a smile and turned to Felicity, who looked mortified.

"You didn't have to do that. It's not like you can't afford it, of course, it's just coffee, but I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to buy me a coffee to make up for just showing up here when I'm already feeling guilty and making my train of thought totally derail and-"

"Felicity," he said, leaning in towards her on instinct, seeing her mouth snap shut as he cut her off. "It's okay. It's my pleasure."

"It's your pleasure to buy coffee for babbling blondes?" she asked, sounding slightly embarrassed but smiling at him again. The smile that made him want her to not walk away from him after she got her coffee.

He felt his lips quirk up in a half-smile, something more genuine than the fake one he had given her before, and nodded. "If only to find out why they went blonde when they used to be brunette."

Felicity's cheeks flushed as he turned to the barista, giving him a sizeable tip and then handing over a hundred dollar bill. "To make up for cutting in line," he said, turning to nod at the people behind them. Amid the flurry of chatter and the beeping sounds of people typing out messages to say how Oliver Queen had just bought them coffee, Oliver picked up the two cups of coffee and nodded to Felicity. "Find us a table?"

XXX

How was this her life?

If this was a movie, she would be rolling her eyes right now at how cliched and fake this all was. But real life wasn't a movie and movies weren't real life.

Although maybe that was how it was for Oliver Queen. Because how else to explain him? How was it even possible for the man to become ridiculously hot while shipwrecked on a deserted island? It wasn't that he had been unattractive before-far from it. But five years ago, he had been all polished and preppy: just like the frat boy he claimed to be.

Now, though, Oliver Queen was a man. The close-cropped hair, the stubble, and how on Earth had his shoulders gotten even wider?

And she had to stop thinking about this before he sat down across from her and fixed her with those eyes of his. They had been powerful before-now they were like blue lasers piercing her soul.

Felicity felt her face go red. Romance novels had better writing than what was going through her head right now.

Spotting a table by the window, she quickly dashed over to it while giving herself a silent pep talk. He was just being polite and curious. They'd sit down, they'd have coffee, she'd try not to die of embarrassment while they talked, and then they'd go their separate ways.

"How's this?" she asked, turning to look at him and gesturing at the table.

"It's great," he said, nodding at her to take the far seat. Thinking it was a little odd, Felicity didn't see a reason not to take the chair with its back to the door, so she sat down and held her hand out for her coffee.

His lips formed that frankly devastating half-smile again and he handed her the cup before he had even sat down-a display of courtesy that she definitely appreciated. Felicity took a slow sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness on her tongue, feeling herself settle into a more socially acceptable version of herself.

"So," he said quietly, his hands wrapped around his own cup and his arms resting on the table, "I heard about what happened to you." His eyes were soft, although no less intense than before. "I'm sorry."

She took another sip, needing a moment. Because the way he had just ripped the Band-aid off and brought up the attack . . . it was nice having it out in the open. But it made sense, because Oliver Queen was the first person she had met since her attack that would understand people tiptoeing around you, people who had questions and just didn't know how to ask.

"Thank you," she said, meeting his gaze. "And-and the same for you. I'm sorry."

Oliver nodded a little, not looking away from her. "You're okay?"

Shrugging her shoulders half-heartedly, she tried to smile. "I'm surviving." She paused and shook her head. "No, that's what I did for the last five years. Now . . . now I'm trying to live." Her smile felt a little more natural now. "Attempting to write again . . . learning to enjoy the things I had to give up for a while. Like this."

"Coffee?" he asked, raising his cup to his mouth. Felicity thought he might have been smiling but was hiding it behind drinking.

"Oh, no, I never gave up coffee. That would be impossible. No, I meant more just being out in the world. Feeling like I'm more than just me, that I'm part of something bigger, instead of hiding and trying to blend in."

"Is that the reason for your hair?" he asked, sounding curious. No, not just curious-intrigued. Like she was some kind of puzzle.

Felicity didn't know how to feel about that. She hated mysteries herself-she had an almost pathological need to solve them. But she had never thought someone might consider her a mystery. And then there was the flutter of _Oliver Queen_ being the one who wanted to figure her out.

The world was very strange sometimes.

"I suppose so," she said, running a hand lightly over her hair. "My friend Sara encouraged me-she said I'd look hot, which is the kind of thing your best friend has to say, isn't it?-and it didn't seem like a bad idea. I wanted to start living my life for myself and no one else. Because it's my choice."

Oliver looked . . . kinda dumbstruck. Which was a bit adorable, really. She felt her cheeks go pink and quickly drank some coffee. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a freshman who just got a C in Philosophy 101. I've just . . . I've been thinking about all of this a lot lately and you made the mistake of asking, so . . ."

"No, no," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm glad that you're so . . . you." He frowned. "It's good that you still believe that the world has something good about it. Or at least a reason to keep trying to find it-that's what I'm trying to say."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she considered his words. Considered _him_, actually. Because . . . because all the coverage of Oliver Queen since his return had been not that different to what it had been before. Ollie the playboy, all charm and flash. Club owner, life of the party, billionaire. And it wasn't that he didn't seem to be that . . . but it really didn't fit with the man sitting in front of her.

For one thing, he was so thoughtful. So self-contained. Like he would be perfectly happy to sit here in silence, drinking coffee and people-watching. Not exactly the behavior you'd expect from someone with his reputation.

Five years ago, she thought he had potential to be more than what he was. A better writer, definitely . . . and maybe even a better man. Now, seeing him like this, even with not knowing what he had been through, she felt like she had been right. Because she liked the man sitting across from her. She kind of wished that the whole world could know this Oliver, instead of the one he was in the newspapers and gossip sites-that he didn't feel like he had to put on an act, like he had when he had interrupted her coffee deliberations.

And now she had been sitting here like a bump on a log while all of this was swirling in her mind. She wasn't sure what was worse: clearly getting lost in her thoughts, or burying him under an avalanche of babble.

"I'm sorry-I didn't mean to go all quiet on you." She sat up straight in her chair. "I'd like to ask you a question."

"Fire away," he said, his voice neutral as he lifted his cup.

"Have you thought any about doing some writing?"

He paused, the cup half-lowered, and looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"That probably wasn't what you were expecting," she said, flashing a grin at him.

"No . . . although you're not the first person to ask me about it." At her inquiring look, he smiled a little. "Tommy wanted to know if I was interested in continuing with Frat Boy Fraternity."

Felicity did her best to hold back her own reaction, searching Oliver's face to see what he thought. But since he just gazed back at her, she decided to keep going. "Are you interested in that?"

To her silent relief, he shook his head. "No . . . it doesn't fit me now."

Nodding in understanding, she popped the lid off her coffee and added some more sugar. "I think you should try writing again. Maybe figure out what _you_ want to write this time, instead of just going along with what you fell into."

"Why?" he asked, leaning forward like he had earlier. Felicity took a breath, feeling thankful for the table that kept him at a somewhat safe distance . . . yet also a little resentful.

"I just-I always thought you could be a good writer. I'd like to see if I'm right," she said quietly, watching as his face softened even as his gaze intensified, making her feel like she was the only person in the world.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but the sound of a cell phone made Felicity startle, yet he only leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone. "Sorry-Diggle, what is it?"

She watched him, not even fully listening to his conversation, as she tried to fit the pieces of him together into a picture that made sense. But she couldn't.

"I'm sorry, but I have to get going," Oliver said as soon as he hung up the phone. He started to stand, then paused in a kind of half-crouch that should have looked awkward but didn't-not even a little bit. "It was really nice to see you, Felicity."

"Likewise," she said, smiling at him and trying to not think about how she should give him her number. But instead, she just lifted up her coffee and said, "And thank you."

There was that little half-smile again. She could get addicted to that expression, she thought with a slight blush. "You're welcome." He tapped his fingers against the table and finished standing up. "I'll see you around."

Before she could say anything else, he turned and walked away. Felicity found herself watching him go. Not just because wow, how had she not noticed he looked as good from the back as he did from the front, but also . . . because she wished they had gotten to talk longer.

XXX

Starling City Tattler, December 7, 2012  
><strong>Who's the Mystery Blonde With Ollie?<strong>

The gossip blogosphere heated up yesterday when candid pictures of Oliver Queen and an unknown woman hit the wires. You might think, 'so what?' but trust us on this, you'll want to see these photos. Taken at Jitters, that popular coffee spot for those seeking as much caffeine as possible, the billionaire and the beauty (albeit a nerdy one) were quite cozy as they sipped coffees at a window side table. Weigh in, _**Tattler**_ readers: just who is the blonde who's captured Ollie's attention?

Starling City Examiner, December 12, 2012  
><strong>Society Beat: Queen Holiday Gala Highlight of Holiday Season<strong>

With Oliver Queen's return, the most tragic of Starling City's first families has something to celebrate this Christmas. That's why everyone is expecting their holiday gala on Saturday night to be the event of the year. Invitations are already highly prized for the first Christmas party in five years at the Queen mansion.

Wall Street Journal, December 17, 2012  
><strong>Queen Consolidated Seeks Stability<strong> (excerpts)

Although the beleaguered company saw a brief rise to their stock prices with the return of Oliver Queen, they have returned to previous levels. Although current CEO Walter Steele has held down the fort-and is married to Moira Dearden Queen-clearly investors want a Queen to head up the company.

Wired, December 2012  
><strong>All We Want for Christmukkah<strong> (excerpts)

_**A new book from Felicity Smoak**_: You could count on the brainy Smoak to give you a new perspective on technology, whether she was examining the inner workings of corporate tech giants or speculating about where the field should go. But it's been five years and other than a few articles, including one of our personal favorites (Wired, July 2010), there's been little from our tech goddess. So in 2013, here's hoping we get word about something new from Ms. Smoak!

End, Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 2/?

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T for now

**Summary**: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: I know you might be disappointed by how Oliver and Felicity's paths don't cross in this chapter, but there were some pieces that had to get put into place for the rest of the story. Don't worry, there will be another meeting in chapter 3. But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

XXX

Starling City Examiner, January 4, 2013  
><strong>The Hood: Friend or Foe?<strong>

As the hooded vigilante fights back against the fat cats and elites who have gotten away with their crimes, Starling City is left to ask: who is the real criminal and who are the real victims here? The police and judges who can't or won't put away these criminals . . . or the guy in the hood who's responsible for a five percent drop in crime in the Glades?

Starling City Tattler, March 5, 2013  
><strong>Newest Fashion Accessory: Hoods!<strong>

Eye on Starling blog, April 2, 2013  
><strong>The Queen Family: From Tragedy to Triumph?<strong>

Starling City Times, April 29, 2013  
><strong>Business Wire<strong>

Transfer: One quarter ownership of the nightclub Verdant from Oliver Queen to Thomas Merlyn. This makes Mr. Merlyn the majority owner of the club, as well as its manager. Mr. Queen is rumored to be focusing on other business opportunities and sought to minimize his role in Verdant.

Starling City Times, June 5, 2013  
><strong>Restoring the Glades: What Next? <strong>(excerpts)

It may seem petty to be wrangling over such details, when so many lives were lost during the event called 'the Undertaking'. But in the aftermath of the destruction of several blocks of the Glades, the most pressing question is who pays for the expensive rebuilding of Starling City? Should it be the Queen family, after matriarch Moira Queen admitted to having played a part in the events that lead up to the destruction? Even though she was not found criminally responsible, there are already seventeen civil cases pending against Queen. Or should the blame be laid at the feet of Malcolm Merlyn, who was accused by Queen of being the architect of the Undertaking?

XXX

The sound of a plane flying overhead made Oliver's head jerk up. Dropping the arrow he had been sharpening, he stood and swept his eyes over the sky as his ears tried to determine where the plane was.

The engine noise meant only one thing: his ride was here.

It was time to go back to Starling. Even if he wasn't sure he was ready to go back. Ready to face everything he left behind. Ready to be a disappointment again.

But that had been the deal Diggle had made with him: he could have two months. Two months to "get your damn head on straight," in his partner's words. And then, Oliver had to come back to Starling City and pick up his life again.

Swallowing, Oliver began gathering his supplies and loading them into a knapsack. He wasn't quite sure what Digg expected him to do, how he thought Oliver would be better now. Because Oliver had failed. He hadn't been able to stop the Undertaking, hadn't been able to save the hundred people who had died in the Glades . . .

Hadn't been able to save Tommy.

His best friend. The man who was like a brother to him. One of only two people to know that Oliver Queen was also the Hood. And now Tommy only had one leg.

The night of the Undertaking, Tommy had been at Verdant. He hadn't listened when Oliver told him to get out of the Glades. A beam had fallen, crushing his leg and causing major internal bleeding. Oliver had managed to get him out in time, before another aftershock could have done even worse, but . . . but that wasn't enough.

After a week, once he knew that Tommy would live, Oliver had left. Had fled, really, back to Lian Yu, back to a place that made sense to him. Only Digg's intervention before he left had kept Oliver from leaving Starling forever.

"_Oliver, you're feeling guilty right now, and I get that," Digg said, his voice low as they stood in the hallway of Starling General Hospital. "But you have to get past it. It was Tommy's choice to stay at Verdant. It's not your fault." _

"_It is!" he hissed. "If it wasn't for me-" _

"_He would have died. A lot more people woulda died, if it wasn't for you getting the earthquake machine dismantled," Digg replied. "You have to remember that." _

_He shook his head. "I . . . I need to go." _

_Digg stayed silent, but his expression said it all. There was understanding there, but also a healthy dose of disappointment and doubt. "You sure about that, Oliver? Leave Thea alone like that? Let Tommy recover on his own?"_

"_They'll be better off without me," he said, the words thick in his throat. "And you'll be here for Thea." _

"_Oh, I will?" Digg asked, raising an eyebrow._

_Oliver looked at Digg, and the other man sighed after a moment. "All right, I'll stay. But on one condition." _

_Even though he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like this condition, Oliver nodded. "What is it?" _

_Digg paused. "You get two months. Two months to figure out what you've gotta figure out, get your head on straight, and then I'm bringing you back. Hogtied, if necessary." _

_Two months wasn't a lot of time. He didn't think it would be enough, but he knew Digg wouldn't give him one day more. _

_So Oliver had only nodded and left without another word._

Stepping into the crashed plane that had been his shelter during all his stays on the island, Oliver gathered his remaining supplies. Last of all, he tucked the notebooks and pencils he had brought with him into a plastic bag and settled them on top of everything else. Lifting the strap of his quiver and settling it on his shoulder, he carried his knapsack and bow down to the beach.

Most people would think he was crazy, returning to Lian Yu. Some days, he was fairly sure he was. Yet . . . yet somehow, it made sense. Maybe it was because he knew he was here willingly, that he had the supplies he needed to survive, or the simple fact that he would only be here two months. But he had found unexpected clarity here.

He knew what he needed to do now. Tommy had called him a killer, a murderer. Was that what he wanted to be? Was that the way to save Starling City? After the Undertaking . . . it wasn't the right way. Not anymore. He had to be better. And not just as the Hood, but as Oliver, too.

For starters, he had to stop pretending to be the old Ollie. It was more trouble than it was worth. Back in the days when he didn't know what he wanted, who he was, it wasn't a big deal to act the playboy. But now-he was different. He had an identity. One that no one could know about, one that he had to keep secret. But there were better ways of keeping Oliver Queen from being linked to the Hood.

Even if he was taking on a persona that was a bit closer to who he really was.

It was risky. There would be questions asked, explanations to give. And more than that . . . it would make him vulnerable. Because the world accepted Oliver Queen as a spoiled, woman-chasing playboy. It was a useful image, one that deflected attention from him.

Would they accept Oliver Queen, writer?

A real writer. Not the shit he had thrown together and put out as _The Frat Boy Way_. But actual writing. Seeing if he really did have potential.

Just the word was enough to take him back to that day in December, eight months ago. Running into Felicity, listening to her talk about how she was trying to move on from her attack . . . hearing her say that she still thought he had talent.

Her words held an unexpected power over him-a magnetic pull, drawing something out of him that he didn't know he had. He'd never met anyone who could do that to him, and it made him want to get as far away from Felicity Smoak as possible-while at the same time, he wanted to move in closer and see what else she had to say.

It was why he hadn't asked for her number, or offered his own. Yet every time he stepped into Jitters, he swept his eyes over the crowd, looking for her. But he never saw her again. Not in Jitters, not around the Glades . . .

And then the Undertaking had happened, and he had run away. But her words had stuck with him, and at the last minute he had jammed some writing materials in with his supplies. And that notebook had become even more important than the one he had received from his father.

Oliver wasn't sure if he had gotten his head on straight. But the solitude of Lian Yu had let him discover that maybe Felicity could be right about him. Or maybe it was more he wanted her to be right. He wanted to think he was more than what he had been. Wanted to be more like the man Felicity saw, even if he didn't understand how she could see anything good in him at all.

It was time to find out just who he could be.

XXX

At this moment, Felicity was really wishing she was home. Surrounded by books, with her laptop and tablet keeping her company and a movie she had seen eighty million times playing on the TV. That would be awesome.

Unlike this very awkward dinner. And the sad thing was, she could only blame herself for being here, since tonight had been her idea in the first place.

But the last thing she had expected was for dinner with the Lance sisters and their father to be so . . . fraught.

In all the years that Felicity had known Laurel, she had never come back to Starling City. In Felicity's opinion, it was a real shame, because it meant Sara and Captain Lance only had each other, in good times and bad, and there were enough times that Sara and her father were on the outs that they didn't even have each other. One Christmas, Felicity thought that Captain Lance had visited Laurel in New York, but as far as Felicity knew, this was the first time the three Lances had been together in many years.

So why didn't they seem happier? Why weren't they talking more? Was it because of Felicity's presence?

Taking a sip of her wine, Felicity once again wished she was at home. She'd take staring at her computer screen, trying to figure out what she was going to write now and wondering if Oliver Queen had magical powers that let him help blocked writers figure out how to write. Like an author whisperer or something.

Her cheeks went a bit pink and she swapped her wine glass for some water, then focused on finishing her plate of angel hair pasta.

Part of the reason for tonight's dinner, other than the Lance family reunion, was to celebrate the forthcoming publication of Felicity's new book. Not that it was really new; it was mostly the articles she had written over the years. The only thing that was really new was the foreword she had written. The foreword that had only seemed possible thanks to Oliver.

Something about talking to him, that day in Jitters, had removed the stopper from her words. Gave her the insight to talk about herself in a way she never had before-to have herself be the subject of her writing. She couldn't claim to be an expert on healing or living your life, but she thought that she had put together some words that could help people like her. People that found themselves in a dark place but who wanted to find the light again. Wanted to be positive that good things could happen-that people could be good, more often than not.

She couldn't explain how that one conversation with Oliver had changed things. Whatever it was, it had been fleeting and ephemeral, because now that she was attempting to start a new book, she was back at square one again.

It wasn't like there weren't topics that interested her: there was the e-reader wars, something that could easily turn into a bigger discussion about similar tech battles like Beta vs. VHS and Blu-Ray vs. DVD-HD. Or there was social media and how it was shaping culture, or the mainstreaming of geek culture, or the Kickstarter effect on new technology development . . . Laurel and Ex Astris were begging her to choose anything, to give them something that they could use to start publicizing her return, but she just had . . . nothing.

"So, Felicity, how's the writing coming? Since you said this new book isn't really new."

Captain Lance sounded a bit strained, like he was trying to take the pressure off his attempts at conversation with his daughters-the attempts that kept dying. But his question made Felicity want to crawl under the table. Especially when Laurel looked at her, her lips pursed.

"Yeah, I'd like to know that, too, since you've been tap-dancing around the subject ever since I arrived in town," Laurel said.

While Felicity had tried to balance her wine with glasses of water, Laurel hadn't done the same. It made Captain Lance worry, Felicity knew, based on the looks he had been throwing his oldest daughter.

Pasting a smile on her face, Felicity focused on Captain Lance. "It's good. I'm doing research right now, trying to figure out how to top _Treehouse_."

"You'll find something," Sara said, patting Felicity's shoulder. "You've got so many ideas."

"That's kind of the problem," Felicity said, trying to laugh and make it sound like a joke. Like she wasn't worrying as much as-or more than-Laurel. "There's just so many different directions I could take."

"You're gonna have to pick something soon," Laurel said before draining her wine. "I told you what Martha said."

It was hard not to wince, but she managed to hold it back. Yes, Laurel had told her what Martha Ellis, the publisher in charge of Ex Astris, had said. She didn't like to think about it, but it was clear that Ex Astris was feeling the pressure and they weren't willing to carry an author who wasn't producing.

Felicity had always thought that she responded well to pressure. But maybe that was a quality she had lost over the last five years, something she just couldn't do anymore.

Captain Lance leaned over towards Laurel, resting his hand on her shoulder and speaking quietly in her ear. Laurel frowned and looked down at the table, then took a deep breath and picked up her glass of water, sipping it slowly.

"How about dessert?" Sara asked, her voice hopeful. "Laurel, they've got tiramisu on the menu. It's still your favorite, right?"

Seeing Laurel nod and manage a weak smile made Felicity feel hopeful, too. Perhaps things would be okay with the Lances. All three of them were important to her, and she wanted them to be happy. To be a family.

In the meanwhile, Felicity resolved that she _would_ make a decision about her next book. It was the least she could do. And if taking some of the pressure off Laurel helped her enjoy her visit to Starling City more, so much the better.

So with that resolve, Felicity made her excuses and let the Lances enjoy dessert together. And while she walked home, she sorted through her ideas and tried to tell herself that one of them could actually work for her next book.

But Felicity couldn't help thinking that she was fooling herself.

XXX

Publisher's Weekly, August 26, 2013  
><strong>Forthcoming: Stray Wires by Felicity Smoak<strong>

This collection of previously-published essays and articles by Smoak, the tech evangelist, features only one piece of new writing: a foreword that's reputed to discuss the brutal attack that's kept her from publishing for five years. Early buzz is mixed on the collection as a whole, but those few who have seen this new work says that it's a remarkable change for Smoak.

Star City Books, September newsletter  
><strong>Coming Next Month . . .<strong>

-Signings with Liane Moriarty (_The Husband's Secret_), Ian Doescher (_William Shakespeare's Star Wars_) and Starling City's own Felicity Smoak (_Stray Wires_)

XXX

As he stepped into the lounge, Oliver felt the tension in his shoulders twist a little tighter. His mother had always claimed they were a family, with the same traditions and rituals as any other group of people related by blood. But Oliver had never agreed with that. His family, even before the island . . . they weren't much of a family. He loved his mother, and he'd do anything for Thea, but something had always seemed to be missing.

So having Moira tell him they were having a family dinner tonight, to celebrate his return to Starling, just made him nervous. Especially when she said she had invited Tommy.

Oliver had been back for a week and he still hadn't seen Tommy. They had texted, of course, but it definitely wasn't the same thing. Because it was easy to hide how you really felt in texts. And he knew his mother had noticed that he wasn't spending time with Tommy. Thea had noticed, too, going by the ass-chewing she had given him last night.

Heading over to the drinks table, Oliver poured himself a whisky and took a deep breath. This last year hadn't been good. He'd made mistakes. A lot of them. All the ways he was broken kept finding new ways to come out, new ways to mess up all that he was trying to build. But he could fix things. Be better.

At least he knew Tommy hadn't told anyone about Oliver's other identity. His best friend might be angry at him-he was furious, most likely. But Tommy wasn't spiteful enough to reveal a secret that wasn't his to tell.

"Drinking already, Ollie? It's tough being back in the bosom of your family, I guess."

Thea's voice was mocking, the sarcasm laid on thick. While he had used a playboy facade to hide what he really felt, Thea had always used sarcasm and a flippant attitude. In a twelve-year-old, it had been amusing. In an eighteen-year-old, it wasn't so amusing. Because Thea had spent the years while he was gone building those defenses and making them strong-particularly over the two months he had been gone.

He understood it. But he didn't like it.

"I'm just nervous about tonight," he said quietly, looking at his little sister. "Seeing Tommy again . . . having to explain myself."

"This is gonna be a night of firsts, then," Thea said, folding her arms across her chest. "I wish I had popcorn."

"I don't. You'd just throw it at me," Oliver said. He smiled a little, trying to break down her walls a little. "You always did that during movies."

She rolled her eyes. "I was a kid then."

Moving closer to her, Oliver looked down at Thea. "I know. But if you want to prove that, there's only one solution."

"And what's that, Ollie?" Thea asked, her eyebrow quirking up.

"Go to a movie with me and eat the popcorn instead of throwing it at me."

There was something about seeing his sister's face light up for a split second, getting a glimpse of the Thea he remembered, that made his heart soften. Made him feel for a moment that maybe having hope wasn't a stupid idea. That it was possible to fix the mistakes he had made.

"I guess so," Thea said, acting casual.

But Oliver could see right through her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "This weekend, okay?"

She nodded, leaning against him a little. "Okay." They both turned as the familiar click-clack of heels heralded the approach of their mother.

"I've missed seeing this," Moira said, smiling at them. "Both my children, looking happy."

"Enjoy it, because I'm sure I'll do something that pisses Thea off sooner or later," Oliver joked, feeling his spirits as high as they had been since his second return to Starling.

Thea nodded and Moira chuckled softly, only for her smile to fade as she looked at Oliver. "I was expecting Tommy by now . . ."

Oliver tried not to stiffen. "Oh. Let me just-" He pulled out his phone and saw he had received a text message. His stomach sank as he read the message from Tommy.

"He said he's not feeling very well this evening," Oliver said, sliding his phone into his pocket. "I guess it'll just be the three of us."

Moira turned to make herself a drink. "I can't say I'm terribly upset by that . . . even though I love Tommy as much as you both."

Taking a breath, Oliver nodded. "I'll catch up with him later. Tell him what I'm telling you both tonight."

His mother looked curious, and Thea pulled away from him. "What's going on, Ollie?"

He lifted his glass and finished his whisky, then set aside the empty glass, knowing that he was stalling but needing the time. "Mom, I know you've been wanting me to take more of a role in Queen Consolidated . . ."

His mother sighed heavily. "It's getting beyond a matter of wanting and becoming a near-necessity, Oliver. It was by mere luck alone that Malcolm Merlyn's earthquake machine failed and there wasn't a higher death toll in the Glades. And I still have the blame for those deaths, even if the grand jury didn't agree," she said, her voice sounding tight and worried. "The last thing the shareholders want is for me to run Queen Consolidated."

"I know, Mom," Oliver said, reaching out to touch her arm. "But having me as CEO . . . that would be throwing gasoline on a fire. I don't have any experience, I don't have the instincts. Anyone could do a better job than me-and there's a lot of people who could be excellent CEOs." He paused. "People like Walter."

"Oliver," Moira said, closing her eyes at the mention of her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

"He turned down the job, so I've already asked him to put together a search committee to find a new CEO," Oliver said. "He agreed without reservations-he's just waiting for my word to get started." He waited for her to open her eyes and he did his best to smile at her. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but-"

Moira shook her head. "All I've ever wanted was for you and Thea to be happy."

"That's why I can't be CEO, Mom," he said quietly, trying not to reveal his reaction to the concern and worry he saw in her eyes. "It wouldn't make me happy. Not when I know what I want to do."

"You do?" Moira asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

Thea literally blinked and put her hands on her hips. "You want to do something different from what you've been doing, right? I mean, you wouldn't be doing all this if you're just gonna keep being the _Tattler_'s favorite subject, right?"

The moment of levity made Oliver relax for a moment, shooting Thea a small grin. "I know it's a lot for you to live up to-"

The slug in the shoulder he got from Thea was surprisingly strong and he lifted his eyebrows at her. She shrugged and said, "So? What's going on?"

This was it. The nerves that had been a low-level hum within him suddenly became a crashing orchestra. It was time for him to reveal the only part of himself that he could share with his family . . . and the importance of this moment made his hands feel a bit clammy.

And then the image of Felicity, sitting across from him in Jitters and saying that she still thought he had potential, popped into his mind. And Oliver found that the words fell from his lips as easy as raindrops from a cloud.

"Mom, Thea . . . I'm going to be a writer."

XXX

With a sniff, Felicity turned the last page in her book and snuggled down in her couch. There were few things she loved more than those moments right after she had finished reading a book, when she could savor the emotions that the book produced within her. Especially when she was left crying happy tears.

As a way to take her mind off her own research, Felicity had gone through a small stack of books that had been sent for blurbing. To her surprise, she had found a novel in the pile, and something had made her dive into it. It was nice to read a novel-she didn't read nearly enough fiction. And it took her back to when she was little and had devoured the story books and novels she had checked out from the library.

The ringing of her phone cut through her happy moment, making her scramble to find her cell. To her surprise, it was her mother.

It was hard for Felicity to understand her mother. Especially in the first few years after the attack. Because Donna Smoak had seen heartbreak, but . . . she had never let it break her completely. She had just kept smiling, kept acting like the same giddy, happy person that she had always been, never minding that she totally embodied the stereotype of a Vegas cocktail waitress. As a mother, she wasn't much for rules or structure; Felicity had come up with those on her own. So whenever the Smoak women saw each other, it usually turned into Donna encouraging Felicity to shorten her skirts, raise her heels, and 'live a little!'

Yet her mother had been someone she had been thinking about a lot in the last year. Ever since the end of the trial, ever since Felicity had decided she didn't want what had happened to her to define her. Ever since she had decided to actually take her mother's advice and live a little.

So she didn't mind her post-novel savoring being interrupted. "Hi, Mom," she said, hearing the fading remains of tears in her voice.

"Oh, Felicity, are you getting a cold? I saw on the news that Starling City is having a very cold summer."

"No, I'm fine. I just finished reading a book and I got a little sniffly," Felicity said, leaning back against the couch cushions. "It was just so good that I couldn't help crying."

Through the phone, the sound of cars and an occasional burst of louder electronic beeps, bells and whistles came through. Felicity guessed her mother was on a break and had stepped outside of the casino, but was still close enough to the entrance for the slot machine noises to drift towards her whenever the doors opened. Closing her eyes, Felicity pictured her mother in her mind: the blonde hair, the short tight dress, the perfectly-applied makeup.

"You never cried at movies or TV shows-just books," Donna said. "I never understood that. I was bawling during _Titanic_ and you were nitpicking the way the boat was sinking."

"Oh, don't remind me, Mom," Felicity said, trying to smile. "How are you doing? How are tips lately?"

"Lousy-the only big convention right now is some comic book thing and although they drink a lot, they're not exactly high rollers," Donna said, blowing out a breath. "I hate Vegas in August."

Biting her lip, Felicity considered the thought that just popped into her mind. "You . . . you could go on vacation," she said, not sure she was ready to necessarily invite her mother to visit her. But she was sure that with how hard her mother worked, Donna deserved a vacation.

"I wish I could, but the rent just went up and my car's making a lot of funny noises," Donna said, sounding reluctant.

Felicity knew Donna didn't want her to feel guilty, but it was hard not to. Her mother had dropped everything to come help in the aftermath of Felicity's attack-and had gotten fired for it. It had taken six months before she had found another job. And there was no way Felicity could help her mother, like she had done occasionally back in the days when she had more than enough money for herself.

"Let's talk about something else," Donna said. "What's going on with you? You never post anything interesting on your Facebook page."

"You read my Facebook page?" Felicity asked in surprise. "I mean, it's more for professional networking and connecting with my fans, not for sharing personal photos and talking about myself . . ."

Donna let out a noise that sounded frustrated. "Felicity, sometimes it feels like the only things I know about you are whatever's in your books! And I don't understand all your techy-tech stuff, but I've still read every one of them because I want to know you."

Blinking, Felicity sat up straight, feeling the stirrings of all her insecurities, both old and new. "What are you saying, Mom?" Her voice sounded cold and hard, and she didn't like that. Giving her head a shake, she tried to make herself sound less icy. "I just mean, what do you want to know?"

There was a long pause. It wasn't often that Felicity asked her mother for advice, and the fact that Donna didn't have an immediate response made her think that her mother was weighing her words carefully.

"I just . . . I think you're more than what you've done so far. That treehouse book, that was pretty close. But the best thing you've ever written was that bit from that book of articles, talking about how you're trying to move on. That-that made me so proud of you."

Felicity could hear a small sniff as her mother finished speaking. Her own throat had closed up and it took her swallowing hard to be able to talk. "Really?"

"Really. You should do more things like that." Donna paused. "And you should open up more and tell people stuff about yourself. Let them in."

She pulled a leg in against her chest, wrapping an arm around it. "I'll think about it." That was all she could say, really. Because . . . because she didn't want to reveal just how scared she was at the thought of letting strangers in like that. People who would criticize and mock the smallest decision or most insignificant aspect of her life, as well as the important things. She wasn't sure she had healed enough for that.

But . . . but really, her mother was saying all this because she wanted to know what was going on in Felicity's life. She could do that. Without having to post it on Facebook or tweet or anything.

"Guess what, Mom?" Felicity asked, hoping she sounded more upbeat. "You're not the only blonde Smoak anymore."

A squeal that was practically super-sonic made Felicity pull the phone away from her ear with a laugh. "You dyed your hair?! You need to send me a picture! And then post it so everyone can see how gorgeous you look!"

Smiling, Felicity ducked her head and listened as her mother talked, and she promised to send Donna a picture as soon as they got off the phone, and through it all . . . she wondered if she should take this latest piece of her mother's advice.

End, Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 3/?

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T for now

**Summary**: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: This chapter was a lot of fun to write-I hope you enjoy reading it! If you're interested, I talk a lot about Arrow and give previews of what I'm working on at my Tumblr. So drop by if you do the Tumblr thing. (It was so hard to not make a Culture Club reference right there, but I try to be original in my pop culture references. [grin])

XXX

Starling City Examiner, October 14, 2013  
><strong>Book Talk with . . . Felicity Smoak<strong>

**Q**: What's next for you?

**A**: Right now, I'm glad to be out talking to people about _Stray Wires_. I have a signing at Star City Books this weekend, and since it's one of my favorite bookstores in the whole world, it'll be tough to leave without buying a few books for myself. And I'm beginning work on my next book.

**Q**: Any hints about what it's about?

**A**: It's a really fascinating topic-the way technology keeps setting up two rivals, having them go head-to-head and seeing which one wins-and why. I had no idea that VHS won out over Betamax because of the porn industry! Not . . . not that I'm very knowledgeable about porn. It's just what I've learned as I've started researching.

Starling City Times, October 16, 2013  
><strong>Social News: Blood &amp; Queen Benefit This Saturday<strong>

One of the events of this fall will happen on Saturday, when the scion of one of Starling's first families joins forces with a passionate political newcomer, all in hopes of improving the lot of the Glades. Oliver Queen lends the power of his name while Sebastian Blood provides the public relations acumen for the Glades Gala, to be held at the Starling Grand Hotel.

XXX

"Well, we have a lot of work ahead of us."

Isabel Rochev's voice was tart, the implication that she was understating things coming through loud and clear. It made Oliver grit his teeth as he stood outside Verdant. But Isabel was one of the best literary agents around-she was focused and intense and she knew how to do her job. The last thing Oliver wanted to worry about was the business side of his new career-as strange as it was to say that he had a career.

"I realize that, Isabel. I appreciate you being willing to work with me again," Oliver said, trying to sound grateful. "And I'm sure with your help, this new book will be a success."

"We'll see," Isabel said noncommittally. "You've sent me everything?"

He nodded. "I know it's rough, but . . ."

"But there's something here," Isabel said. "So I'll start making some discreet calls. Clearly you don't care if there's a bidding war-Oliver Queen's not doing this for the money."

"No," Oliver said, pausing. "But I am interested in approaching Ex Astris first."

Isabel sighed heavily. "No, you aren't. They're floundering. On the verge of collapse."

"They took a chance on me. I'm willing to repay that favor," Oliver said. He wasn't going to back down on this. Ex Astris deserved to have first crack at publishing him again.

"Fine," Isabel said. "I'll call you in a few days." And with that, she hung up.

Oliver pocketed his phone and looked up at Verdant. In the middle of the day, the club had a very different vibe than it did at night. He had forgotten that. But then, it had been a while since he had come here. After Tommy had discovered the truth about the Hood, Oliver had let Tommy buy most of his remaining shares in the club. It just seemed . . . easier.

His best friend had seemed determined to cut Oliver out of his life-not that Oliver could blame him. He had never lied to Tommy before, after all.

_Not true. You lied about Felicity._

Frowning, Oliver wondered where that thought had come from. Perhaps he hadn't fully revealed everything he thought about Felicity when he first met her, but that wasn't a lie, was it?

Okay, so maybe he had lied occasionally to Tommy. But concealing the truth about his nighttime affairs-that was a lie so immense, it was little wonder that Tommy needed time to deal with it.

Especially since his disappearance after the Undertaking hadn't helped matters, either. Because Oliver had been home a solid month and Tommy had ducked out on every single occasion that might let them interact. He'd either ignored Oliver's texts and calls suggesting meeting up for dinner or drinks, or he'd agreed to dinners at the Queen mansion only to cancel at the last minute.

That was why Oliver was here today, at Verdant. According to Thea, Tommy was supposed to be coming here before heading to a physical therapy appointment. If he kept refusing to see him, Oliver was going to force the issue. Out of all the mistakes he had made, losing his best friend wasn't going to be one of them. Maybe if they were on Tommy's turf, he'd be willing to talk to Oliver a little. Enough for Oliver to start repairing the damage he had created.

He was really starting to regret selling Tommy his shares in the club. Not only because it removed a way that would have forced them to talk, but because he knew being in charge with no help put a lot of pressure on Tommy's shoulders, now that he . . .

The sound of wheels on pavement made Oliver turn around, to get his first look in three months at his best friend.

Taking in the sight of Tommy in a wheelchair, his face thinner than it used to be, missing the vitality that used to make his friend seem so alive . . . and worst of all was seeing the left pant leg of Tommy's jeans hang loose and empty. It hurt. Guilt, shame, anger-they all rolled through him, making his stomach clench and his fingers rub together. If there was a way to put an arrow in himself, Oliver would do it right now.

"Oliver Queen." Tommy's voice was dark and mocking. "I gotta say, I'm surprised you're still trying."

"Tommy," Oliver said, stopping to suck in air after realizing he had been holding his breath. "I-I'm sorry."

A quiet snort was Tommy's only response at first, as he started slowly pushing his wheelchair towards the door of Verdant. "Of course you are, Oliver," he said over his shoulder. "You're sorry about everything."

Oliver opened his mouth to say . . . something. He didn't know what, exactly, but he couldn't just let Tommy go like that, could he? But his feet seemed to be rooted to the ground and the words just wouldn't come. So he just watched as Tommy manhandled his way into Verdant, the door shutting behind him and his wheelchair.

There was no sense of time passing; he could have stood there for a minute or an hour. But slowly, he realized that Tommy was in no mood to talk yet, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The distance between them, it wasn't going to be fixed with one conversation. It was going to take a lot of work for them to be friends again. Work that Oliver wasn't sure he knew how to do. Especially with Tommy unwilling to help him.

His feet began moving, carrying him away from Verdant. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he didn't pay much mind to where he went. Oliver tried to untangle his thoughts, only to blow out a breath and give up after he just kept coming back to the one thing he knew: Tommy hated him.

It made him feel like something was wrong with the world. There was no one on Earth that he was closer to than Tommy. Although . . . was that true anymore?

The thought was so troubling that Oliver felt himself grow even more morose. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone stumble, on the verge of falling right in front of him. Instinctively, his hands reached out and caught the slight shoulders of the blonde woman, feeling the strangest sensation in his fingertips as they made contact with her-

"Felicity?"

XXX

Clearly, there was something about Jitters that created ridiculous, embarrassing situations. Because how else to explain that every time she came here, something happened that made her wish a giant black hole would open underneath her and take her far, far away?

The first time, the lid on the sugar shaker was loose and fell into her cup of coffee, yielding a drink that was too sweet even for Felicity. But the staff had been super-nice and upgraded her grande to a venti for free as an apology. And with how good the coffee was, that was _very_ nice. But she had felt a bit guilty, cheating on her normal coffee place, and she thought this was the way the universe agreeing with her. So she had gone back to her normal place, until it had to close for renovations.

On her second visit to Jitters, Oliver Queen had found her and bought her coffee and looked at her with those eyes of his and . . .

At least she hadn't completely embarrassed herself. But still, it was an awkward encounter, one that she was determined not to repeat, even if she really really _really_ wanted to figure out why spending time with Oliver had made her writing come so easily. It wasn't like he had talked all that much and they certainly hadn't discussed her work. So why was just being around him enough?

And then there was today.

Sara had been encouraging her to learn self-defense for ages, but Felicity had kept putting her off. But when Sara picked up a part-time job, teaching at a dojo in the Glades, it became impossible to keep making excuses. So two times a week, Felicity attended Sara's class, sweating and nervous and uncertain the whole time.

The only plus had been the dojo's proximity to Jitters. But it wasn't until the third week of classes, i.e. today, that Felicity had been willing to consider that maybe, just maybe, Jitters and her weren't cursed to be forever apart.

Clearly, she should have gone with her first instinct. Because as she had been walking out of the shop, an extra-delicious latte clutched in one hand while she fumbled in her purse for her phone, she stumbled when her foot hit a puddle and her worn-out sneakers skidded out from under her.

There wasn't even enough time for her to mourn losing her latte before firm, warm hands were gripping her shoulders, keeping her from slamming flat on her back. She was so surprised she wasn't in immense pain that it took her a moment to realize her hero had said her name.

"Oliver?" she asked, blinking up at him and marveling at his upper-body strength, because he was holding her up like she was as light as a feather and that was perhaps only thirty percent true.

His lips quirked up and he nodded. "Yeah. Are you okay? Can you stand up?"

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she nodded quickly and Oliver helped her get steady on her feet. His eyes ran over her and Felicity really wished for that black hole now, because a faded MIT t-shirt and yoga pants weren't exactly the clothes you'd want to wear when meeting a very hot, very rich man. Not that either of those things mattered since it was Oliver and he was just being nice and . . . and he seemed to be nice to her a lot.

Felicity closed her eyes tightly and gave her head a small shake. No. She wasn't going to think like that, not with Oliver standing in front of her and probably thinking she was a moron who couldn't walk properly. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and gave him a grateful smile as she adjusted her glasses. "Thank you so much. I didn't even spill my latte."

His lips might have twitched, as if he was trying to hold back an actual smile or even laughter, but maybe it was just her imagination. Because he just nodded and said lightly, "And you wouldn't have liked that."

"Not even a little bit," she said, taking a quick sip to thank the coffee for its bravery and self-sacrifice, then focused on Oliver.

Oddly enough, she thought he looked less . . . less sad. When she saw him back in December, there seemed to be a weight on his shoulders that he was barely carrying. Now, even though he still seemed like Atlas in human form, it was different. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it made her feel happy for him.

"How are you doing?" she asked, curious about how he'd respond to her question.

Those frankly magnificent shoulders of his shrugged. "I'm fine," he said. "About normal, I guess." Then he frowned a little and shrugged again.

God, he was driving her crazy. Because here she was, thinking he seemed like he was doing well, and now she was questioning that assumption. It made her want to do _something_. Anything to figure him out.

"I feel like I should buy you a coffee," Felicity said. "As a thanks for the rescue. Or at least to pay you back for the last time I saw you." She left unsaid the biggest favor: helping her with the foreword, even though he didn't realize he had and she didn't know how he had done it.

Oliver waved a hand in the air, but not in a dismissive way. "It was my pleasure," he said, his eyes locking on hers.

"One of these days, I will pay up for all these favors, because that's my pleasure," she said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Oliver's eyebrows went up and Felicity felt her entire body flush. "I mean, because it's not fair for you to buy me coffee and keep me from breaking my back-the least I could do is buy you coffee, because it's no trouble, although maybe you're on your way someplace and I'm making you late by babbling like this and-"

"Felicity," he said, gently interrupting her and whoa, he had taken a step or two closer to her and she was not prepared to be that close to him. He could probably smell her stinky sweat from self-defense class!

With all her strength, Felicity pressed her lips together and stayed quiet. That little half-smile flashed across his face. "It's fine. I was just happy to keep you from breaking your back."

Swallowing, she managed a little smile at him. "My hero."

She didn't know why that made him take several steps back from her. "You're okay?" he said, edging away. "I'm sorry, I do have to get going . . ."

"Go, go," she said, shooing him along. "We'll catch up another time." She hesitated, wondering if she should do it, but then, she had already done plenty to make herself look like a fool-what was one more thing? And he was being nice enough to wait for her to make up her mind, so Felicity took a chance.

Rummaging in her bag, she yanked out a card. "I'm doing a signing at Star City Books next week. If you're free . . . I hope you'll come."

The look on Oliver's face was indecipherable. But he took the invitation, nodding a little. "Thank you, Felicity."

"You're welcome," Felicity said, edging back from him as the sudden desire to get far away from him reasserted itself. "So, you have places to go and so do I, so . . . bye!"

And like that, she turned on her heel and walked away-in the wrong direction, not that he knew that, thank God-like a legitimately crazy person. But each step took her out of the fog that being in Oliver Queen's presence seemed to plunge her into.

That was a good thing, right?

XXX

China White was attacking medicine delivery trucks, leaving hospitals critically under-supplied with painkillers. Meanwhile, the police's newest effort to unmask him, especially after the copycat vigilantes' reign of terror, were severely affecting his work as the Arrow. To cut off Sebastian Blood's criticism of the elite of Starling-and Oliver in particular-he had agreed to help Sebastian put on a benefit for the Glades, which required plenty of planning. His family's company was on the verge of ruin, Isabel was already pressing him to begin revising the rough draft of his book, Tommy was still ducking him at every turn, and there was a blonde female vigilante popping up in the Glades.

In short, there was plenty to keep his mind busy, in both of his identities. So fixating on Felicity's invitation to her book signing was . . . hard to reconcile.

Something about her, with her glasses and bright nails and smiles, made him able to relax. Let something inside himself uncoil. And it only seemed to happen around her. Maybe it was the babbling, or how she took him on his own terms-except that wasn't true, because otherwise, she wouldn't have invited him to her book signing, after he had never made any efforts to maintain contact with her. Unless she was trying to stir up some extra publicity for herself-

Shaking his head, Oliver put down the invitation and pushed away from the desk. No, that wasn't something Felicity would do. He might not know her very well, but . . . but he knew that much.

"Ready to go?" Digg asked, waiting at the edge of the mat with two staffs. There seemed to be something in his voice, something Oliver couldn't quite figure out. So he ignored it and rose to his feet, catching the staff after Diggle tossed it to him.

"Ready," he said, saluting his partner and then beginning his attack.

But his feet were slow and his strikes were weak. They went for ten minutes and there were too many close calls. When he just barely managed to avoid the blow from Digg's staff for the third time, Oliver took a step back, breathing deeply as he tried to recenter himself.

"You seem off tonight, man," Diggle said, moving around the edge of the training mat. "'Cause I know I'm not this good."

"You've gotten better," Oliver argued, although not exactly strenuously. Digg's look said that he wasn't buying what Oliver was selling, so Oliver just nodded a little. "Yeah, I've got a lot on my mind."

"Like the blonde?"

It took a lot for him to not parrot Diggle's words due to his surprise. But Oliver felt a sense of dread as Digg walked over to his suit jacket and pulled out a folded-up copy of the _Tattler_.

"Never thought I'd read this, but Carly and A.J. get a kick out of seeing me in the background of your paparazzi shots," Digg said, walking over towards Oliver and holding the paper out. "Although I'm not in this one."

Sighing a little, Oliver took the paper from Digg and scanned the grainy photos. As he suspected as soon as Digg had mentioned a blonde, there were shots of him talking to Felicity, outside of Jitters. At least there weren't pictures of him catching her, and Felicity's face was somewhat obscured-only her blonde hair and glasses were really visible.

"She's . . . she's a friend," Oliver said, handing the paper back and turning to one of the training dummies, moving through a series of parries with his staff.

He glanced over at his partner, but Digg just watched him, his arms folded over his chest. Then he nodded and picked up his jacket. "I'm going to head out." He paused for a moment. "You gonna stay here?"

"Yeah. Do some more training," Oliver said, gesturing towards the salmon ladder. "I've got my bike, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Diggle made a small noise of agreement, but he didn't turn and head towards the stairs. Instead, he just . . . waited.

"Got something to say, Digg?" Oliver said as he lifted the bar for the salmon ladder, feeling a stab of annoyance.

"Just wondering where your head's at," Digg said, raising his voice to be heard over the clanging of metal against metal.

Instead of answering right away, Oliver waited until he reached the top of the ladder. "You worry about my head a lot."

"Somebody's got to," Digg said, sounding mild and unruffled. "Even before you stopped your playboy act, you've been living like a monk. Except for this girl."

Oliver looked down at Digg, knowing his curiosity showed in his face. Digg smirked a little. "Last December, you and a mystery blonde? Having coffee together?"

Damn it. Not only did Digg have the memory of an elephant, the man thought he knew everything. And the galling thing was, he knew enough. Too much, even. More than Oliver did, it felt like. Gritting his teeth, Oliver moved back down the ladder, really slamming the bar into each rung. "It-coulda-been-two-different-women," he spit out.

"Could have, but isn't."

With a huff, Oliver hung from the lowest rung of the ladder, then let go of the bar and hit the floor. "What are you doing? Asking me about my intentions towards some woman I barely know?"

"Just being curious. Because you've got a lot going on, Oliver. You sure you want to add something else?"

He had opened his mouth to argue, only for Digg to hold up a hand. "Have you failed to notice the date on that invite you keep looking at?"

Was he really being this obvious? Oliver furrowed his brow and considered not giving in to Digg's question, but now he was wondering what Digg meant. So he picked up the invite again and ran his eyes over it, freezing as it finally sunk in.

"It's the same night as Sebastian Blood's benefit."

"Which, actually, is something you're throwing with him, right?" Digg asked, that tone back in his voice again. The tone that Oliver could now identify as bemusement. "Can't really be a good host and miss any of it, can you?"

Straightening up, Oliver eyed Digg. "Not necessarily," he said, feeling that playboy mantle slip over him again and hating how easy it was sometimes. "These kinds of things, no one notices if the host slips away for an hour."

"True, I guess," Digg said as Oliver grabbed a shirt and pulled it on. "Let's just hope Sebastian Blood isn't so observant."

"We'll see, I guess," Oliver said, picking up his keys from the desk. "I'm going home. See you tomorrow."

Digg followed him up the stairs, staying quiet. Because what else was there to say? He had already exposed how Oliver was lying to himself. He felt his hands clench into fists for a moment before he forced himself to relax.

Just because he wasn't actively being a playboy meant he could leave all its trappings behind, now that he was focusing on his writing. Yes, he believed in Blood's cause-yes, he still had a position in Starling City as a member of the Queen family-yes, that meant attending galas and sponsoring benefits. But his cover as author Oliver Queen would be improved if he showed up at Felicity's signing. And more than that . . . he wanted to go. Even if spending more time with Felicity seemed as dangerous as charging into a warehouse full of drug dealers.

Actually, right now, he'd take the drug dealers.

XXX

With a happy little hum, Felicity stepped out of the shower on Saturday evening. Sara would be here any minute to do her hair, she wanted to give her nails a touch-up, and there was the all-important matter of which lipstick to wear.

Because tonight, she was going to enjoy herself, damn it. She was not going to stress out and wonder if Oliver would show up or not, because tonight was about the people who wanted to talk about _Stray Wires_, the fans who had been reading her books for years and who had sent her encouraging Tweets and left excited comments on her Facebook posts.

So all of this beautifying was not for Oliver's benefit. Nope. Not at all.

Felicity made a face at herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. The chances of Oliver Queen actually showing up were slim to begin with. And that was before she had realized that the big benefit he was co-hosting with Sebastian Blood was tonight, too. There was no way Oliver could do both, so there was no reason to tie herself into knots and try to be something-_someone_-she wasn't.

Being Felicity Smoak was enough. And that meant spending the evening with whoever showed up for the reading, signing some books, and not letting Sara talk her into crazy hair or too much wine.

Simple.

Confident that she was focused on what really mattered, Felicity left the bathroom, pausing to put on some music before she slipped into her new dress. It might have taken a lot of scrimping for her to afford, but it was perfect for tonight. The bright purple dress was very professional-looking, she thought-except for the triangle-shaped cutout over the top of her chest. It wasn't very revealing, but it definitely made the dress interesting.

As she stepped into her black heels, she did a little shimmy in time with the music, smiling at how good the dress felt. But then she stumbled, catching herself on her bed.

"What . . .?" she said out loud, looking down at her feet. Felicity sighed as she realized that the strap that went around the toes of her right foot had ripped. That made the shoe unwearable-and it meant she had to find something else to wear.

If only Sara didn't have dainty, fairy-tale princess feet, she thought as she went through her choices, looking through the bottom of her closet. Otherwise, she'd be on the phone to her friend. But that wasn't a possibility, so she'd have to go with . . .

Felicity went very still as she saw the dusty shoebox, crammed in the very back of her closet. Yet even with them out of sight, she hadn't ever been able to forget her magic shoes. Even if she hadn't worn them since that night, nearly six years ago now, when everything she wanted had seemed to be hers for the taking.

Her hands were steady, but slightly clammy, as she picked up the box. Wincing a little at the dust on her fingers, Felicity wiped her hands on the carpet before she lifted up the lid of the box. Just like before, the sparkle of the high heeled shoes lit up the room.

How had she not realized that her new dress picked up the purple glitter in the shoes? That these shoes would be the perfect accessory for her dress?

For a genius, sometimes she missed the most obvious things.

Keeping these shoes in her closet and never wearing them was a crime. Not because they were couture shoes that any woman would love to own and wear. Because the night she had worn them, it had been the first time she had glimpsed the woman she could be. She hadn't been ready that night . . . but Felicity thought she was ready now.

She lifted them carefully out of the box and set them on the floor. Oh-so-carefully, she stepped into them, shifting her center of gravity as the heels added four inches to her height. And then her eyes were closing, as she felt that same spark as before-like they were the sufficiently advanced technology that Arthur C. Clarke had described as magic.

A knock on the door made Felicity jump, then she looked down at her shoes, feeling nervous. But they were intact, so she dashed over to the door and opened it.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, I had to-" Sara began as she stepped into Felicity's apartment, but then she stopped and stared. "Wow."

"Wow? A good wow?" Felicity asked, unable to hold back the wide smile at Sara's tone and expression. She looked amazed.

Sara nodded slowly. "You've been holding out on me with all those loose clothes at the dojo! Hot." She grinned, then pointed at Felicity's shoes. "And where did those come from? I'd kill to wear them."

"Too bad, they're mine and they wouldn't fit you." Felicity grinned. "They were a gift from Laurel, six years ago."

A flicker of sadness was Sara's only reaction to Laurel's name. She smiled at Felicity. "Well, now it's not gonna matter that I was late. You're already more than halfway to author-I'd-like-to-"

"You really need to get your eyes checked," Felicity said, rolling her eyes but her smile still in place. "C'mon, I need to start drying my hair or else you'll have to spend an hour defrizzing me."

"What do you think about curls?" Sara asked, following Felicity to the bathroom. "Big, loose ones, in a kinda half-updo?"

Picking up her hair dryer, Felicity nodded. "It sounds good." Not just because it would help hide her scar a little-she liked wearing her hair curly and working with her natural waves.

Sara nodded back, grinning, then took the hair dryer from Felicity. "Okay, you sit and relax, and tell me why you've been walking around lately with that happy smile on your face. And before you say anything, it's a guy smile, so don't even try and tell me any differently."

Never before had Felicity been so grateful for the roar of a hair dryer. Because it gave her time to figure out how she could talk to Sara about this. About Oliver. Because there was definite history between them, but Felicity didn't know all the details. And yes, Sara was more interested in women now, but . . .

"It's Oliver Queen," Felicity blurted out before screwing up her eyes as soon as she knew that Sara had heard her words.

Because if Felicity was about to lose her best friend because of some weirdly awkward crush on her best friend's ex, she wasn't sure she wanted to see it happen.

End, Chapter 3

**Author's Note 2**: The magic shoes return! (If you want to see them, Google "Jimmy Choo Abel Black and Tourmaline Glitter".) That was a happy accident-not unlike Felicity stumbling in front of Oliver. I fully intended to have the book signing happen in this chapter, but then there was Oliver catching Felicity and the ensuing adorableness. So now you know what's coming in Chapter 4. :-) Until next week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 4/?

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T for now

**Summary**: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: The tone's changed a little bit, but don't worry, things will get serious again for Oliver and Felicity. Just . . . not in this chapter. I look forward to hearing what y'all think! Comments/reviews are love.

XXX

WEBG News at Ten  
><strong>On-Air Anchor<strong>: And it seems like all of Starling was gathered tonight for a worthy cause: rebuilding the Glades. We go now to Tiffany Donnelly, live at the Starling Grand, with the hosts of this evening's event.

[video feed of Tiffany standing next to Sebastian Blood]

Channel 52 Live at Eleven  
><strong>On-Air Anchor<strong>: And now to Kelli Clark, who's got the culture beat covered tonight. Kelli?

Kelli: That's right, Don. It was a packed house at Star City Books for Felicity Smoak, signing copies of her new book, _Stray Wires_.

XXX

How many times over the years had he ducked out early from parties and galas? Shown up late with a crappy excuse? Made his escape into a dark room with a leggy brunette with no one being the wiser?

It probably numbered in the hundreds. So why did he feel like a teenager trying to sneak out of his parents' house-like he had never done this before and wanted, more than anything, to not get caught?

Part of it was because he didn't have Tommy watching his back, helping create diversions. As good as Digg was, he couldn't exactly provide interference in this crowd, even if he had been here. But more than that, he was pretty sure it was because of the event he was trying to attend instead of this benefit.

Oliver swept his eyes around the ballroom of the Starling Grand and sipped from a glass of water, waiting for the right opening. He had already spent an hour and a half mingling, making small talk with businessmen he'd known his whole life, forcing himself to listen and smile at their stories about his father. All the while wondering if they had taken part in planning the Undertaking-and marveling at the hypocrisy on display.

It was enough to make him want to pull out the list again. But that was in the past, he reminded himself. The Arrow wasn't just trying to exact vengeance anymore; it was about justice. About fairness. Like stopping China White's Triad gang and safeguarding the drugs needed by Starling City's hospitals.

That was where his partner was: Digg was currently tracking the SCPD's planned attack on the Triad. It was an attack made possible by the information Oliver had fed Captain Lance. The SCPD didn't have a great reputation, but Quentin Lance wasn't viewed as the reason for their track record. If anything, he was the reason it wasn't worse. He'd certainly shown that during the Felicity Smoak attack investigation.

And just thinking about Felicity was enough to make that tingle of nerves reawaken. Nerves . . . and the itch of desire.

Although desire wasn't the right word. It implied more than Oliver was willing to admit to. But he knew that he wanted to see Felicity again-not by chance, but due to an actual planned meeting. Her invitation had been unexpected but welcomed. It made him think of all the coincidences and tricks of fate that he had experienced, those events that made him realize that your choices were only part of what determined how your life happened. There was fate, too. Luck. Whatever you wanted to call it, there was something that was guiding him towards one path.

Tonight, he was listening to what the unseen forces were trying to tell him.

Checking his watch, Oliver knew it was time for him to leave if he wanted to arrive before Felicity's signing was over. He lifted his phone, waiting for Digg to pick up.

"Status?" he asked quietly.

"Radio chatter has the SCPD moving in sometime in the next hour. They're getting ready to take up positions at the target."

Oliver frowned slightly. By now, they should be moving in. "Any reason for the delay?"

"Seems like they had communication problems," Diggle said, sounding distant, like you did when carrying on one conversations while listening to another. "No other red flags, at least."

"Keep monitoring and let me know if anything changes," Oliver said, easing his way towards one of the side exits, one that was less blocked by Starling City socialites.

"You've already got two events tonight as Oliver Queen, man-you really think you can add an appearance by the Arrow to that?"

He frowned at Digg's words, but had to concede he was right. "Point."

There was a quiet bark of laughter. "I've got the extra suit. I'll go in if necessary. Don't want to get in the way of your plans with your . . . friend."

It would seem that Digg really hadn't bought Oliver's explanation that Felicity was just a friend. The only thing that prevented an argument was that he was in public and couldn't snap out what he was thinking. "Thank you, Mr. Diggle," Oliver said formally, nodding to a few women his mother's age as he sidled past them.

"Of course, Mr. Queen," Digg said ironically before hanging up.

Sliding his phone back into the pocket of his pants instead of returning it to his suit jacket, Oliver stopped at the bar that happened to be right next to the side exit he had identified. It wasn't the best option, but he had gone with the spilled drink ruse to allow himself to leave without questions being raised. He'd just have to be careful about how he spilled his drink on himself, since he wouldn't have time to stop somewhere for a new shirt.

But before he could get the vodka tonic he was after, a hand clapped on his shoulder. "Some turnout."

Taking a breath, Oliver turned to face Sebastian Blood. "I guess I still know how to throw a party," he said with a shrug before grinning at the politician.

"Like riding a bike?" Blood asked, laughing as if he had made the funniest joke in the world. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver noted the photographers that were hanging around.

If Blood wanted to play for the cameras, Oliver would show him how it was done. "Or other things," he said with a smirk. "If you know what I mean."

Blood let out a hearty chuckle and nodded. "WEBG is showing up to do a live interview with us around ten-thirty. It'll be great publicity."

It was all he could do not to swear. It was already past eight-thirty; if he was going to get to Felicity's signing and back, he had to leave now. "That's great, Sebastian-if you don't mind, I need to make a few calls . . ." Oliver edged away from him slowly, seeing Blood's expression darken. But the politician simply nodded.

"You could use the suite I booked for tonight . . . if you wanted privacy." His voice was slightly lascivious, as if he was enjoying the idea of Oliver being in his debt for a fuckpad.

Oliver smiled tightly, not wanting to show how Blood's innuendo bothered him. "That's not necessary, but thank you. I'll be back soon."

Turning on his heel, he strode to the exit. He didn't bother with attempting to make his exit any less noticeable. Let Blood be the glad-handing host for a while and think that Oliver was slipping out to screw someone.

That wasn't the truth.

XXX

Her hands were clammy. Felicity rubbed them, one at a time, against her dress, switching her tablet from one slightly-dry hand to the other. Most of the time, she didn't speak at her signings. Public speaking wasn't easy for her, not with the way she could babble, but Star City Books had been good to her through the years. They had held two fundraisers for her, kept promoting her books, and were everything an independent bookstore should be. In return, she gave them as much publicity as she could and she had willingly agreed to appear at the store and speak as well as sign books.

But with everything that was going through her mind right now, she wasn't sure she could hold it together enough to give her speech, let alone make small talk with all the fans filling the store and lining up outside.

Because Sara had been more than a little thrown by her blurted admission that Felicity was interested in Oliver Queen. Not because she harbored any feelings for him, Sara had assured her.

"_No, it's just that-he's the last guy I'd expect you to be interested in, Felicity. How did you even meet?"_

_Felicity took a deep breath. "We actually met before he got shipwrecked and I got attacked. We did a book signing together. He . . . he was really nice, even with acting like a spoiled frat boy." She paused. "You-you were there that night, too." _

_Sara's forehead wrinkled. "You know, I kinda remember that . . . as much as I remember any of those nights. Man, those years are just a blur sometimes." Sara searched Felicity's face in the mirror. "What is it?" _

_Turning around as best she could in the small space of the bathroom, Felicity looked directly at Sara. "You kissed him, so . . . so I felt awkward saying anything to you before now. Not that there's anything to talk about, really-one book signing six years ago and then two coffee-related situations in the last year aren't exactly a lot to talk about, and believe me, I know that I'm being silly, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings or risk our friendship over this. Over . . .Oliver." _

_The small chuckle that Sara let out made Felicity tense even as her hopes rose. "Oh, God, now I remember. Ollie was such a jerk that night. Handsome as hell, but a jerk." She grinned at Felicity and gave her a quick hug. Felicity breathed out, feeling her tension ease. _

"_Ollie and me were just friends with benefits," Sara said, pulling back and fixing her eyes on Felicity. "I was trying to get attention-all the wrong kinds-and Ollie-well, I don't know what he was after, really, but at least I took his mind off his problems for a little while." Sara leaned against the bathroom counter, still holding the hair dryer in her hand. "But it's ancient history. I haven't even seen him since he came back. So really, you have nothing to worry about." _

Yeah. Sure. Nothing to worry about. Just public speaking and promoting her book as best she could, and worrying if Sara had been honest with her, and then feeling like a bad person for doubting her friend, and . . . what if Oliver _did_ show up? What if he heard her talking about what she had gone through, what if he heard her read from the book's foreword, and thought she was whiny and shallow? After all, she hadn't spent five years shipwrecked on a deserted island!

She was starting to breathe too fast and her fingers were rubbing the scar on her neck. The shivers were coming back. Squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her hand away from her scar, Felicity made herself concentrate and focus. "You're safe. You're free. And you're strong," she whispered, gripping her tablet with both hands and using the plastic and glass to ground her as much as the words.

Sara was just outside, helping get everything set up for her reading, and there were a few other women from her self-defense class coming tonight. And everyone at this event were here because they liked her work and they supported her. There wouldn't be anyone lurking in the crowd, preparing to hurt her.

Her breathing slowed down, becoming regular, and Felicity felt her shoulders lower from their place around her ears. She kept her eyes closed and just worked on her breathing and within a few moments, her body had stopped trembling.

Tonight wasn't about her. It was about the readers. She would get up and talk about _Stray Wires_, she would read a little of the foreword, and she would sign copies for people. And maybe . . . maybe it would help people. It was all so new, this idea that she could do more. When she wrote _Treehouse_, she thought she would change the world with what she was saying. But maybe it was more important to change individual people instead of the whole world.

"Ms. Smoak?"

Felicity turned around quickly, holding her tablet to her chest. "Y-yes?"

Susan, the co-owner of the shop, smiled at her. "Feeling nervous?"

Lowering her tablet, Felicity nodded. "Yeah. It's just . . . it's been a while."

"I'm really excited for tonight," Susan said, going to a small mini-fridge in the corner of the office. "Would you like another bottle of water?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Felicity said, showing Susan her nearly-full bottle. "Thank you. And I'm excited, too, of course."

"That's good! Because I actually came in to say we're just about ready, if you want to get started. Now, I'll be introducing you, you'll speak to the crowd, and then we'll start the signing afterwards. Okay?"

Felicity nodded, appreciating Susan's brisk yet friendly efficiency. It let her shift her mind away from all the personal drama and to her work. She took a few deep breaths and adjusted her glasses. "I'm ready."

Susan smiled. "Then this way, Ms. Smoak."

"Felicity, please," she corrected. "Ms. Smoak makes me look for my mother."

With a soft chuckle, Susan nodded. "All right, Felicity. Let's get this show on the road."

Taking a few deep breaths, Felicity followed Susan. They walked out of the office and down a short hallway, passing through a door and stepping out into a dimly-lit area, curtained-off from the stage and the rest of the store. Susan climbed onto the stage and stepped through the curtains, and a polite yet enthusiastic round of applause greeted her.

As Susan began her introduction, Felicity quickly woke her tablet and skimmed the first few sentences of her speech. She always tried to memorize the beginning, so that if nerves kicked in and she couldn't focus, at least she could say something while she found her calm.

". . . it is my pleasure to welcome back to Star City Books, Felicity Smoak!"

At the last words of her introduction were made, Felicity stepped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble and fall off at the crash of applause that broke over her. Just how many people were here? It sounded like thousands!

She paused, and the clapping only got louder. "You're strong," she said to herself quickly as she pushed open the curtains and came into view of the audience.

It wasn't thousands. But it was the biggest crowd she had ever seen in Star City Books. And they were all here to listen to her.

Stepping up to the microphone, Felicity did her best to smile, even as cell phone camera flashes went off and the applause continued for a long moment. And through it all, she kept looking at the people in the audience, feeling her heart swell up with happiness and gratitude and excitement.

Slowly the applause faded, and Felicity leaned in to the microphone. "Wow. I wish I got applause like that all the time. Like when I manage to get dressed like an adult without any coffee."

And the laughter of the crowd made her smile for real.

XXX

If he didn't find a parking spot soon, he would have to turn around and go back to the Starling Grand without seeing Felicity.

He didn't want to admit how frustrating that thought was. Because then he'd have to figure out why he was frustrated, other than the obvious reasons: fighting Starling City traffic on a Saturday night and getting on Sebastian Blood's bad side for nearly missing the TV interview. For a do-gooder, Blood certainly liked playing up his selflessness.

Gripping the steering wheel, Oliver drove down another street near Star City Books, crawling along as he swept his eyes around for a place to park. The only option in this neighborhood was street parking, so he just had to hope-

A beat-up Ford pulled out of a space on the opposite side of the street and Oliver wasted no time in pulling a U-turn and sliding into the spot. Getting out of the car, he started walking quickly towards the bookstore.

Oliver glanced at his watch and sighed. It was too late. The signing was only supposed to go until nine-thirty, and it was quarter to ten now. For a moment, he paused at a crosswalk, wondering if he should just go back to his car. After all, he hadn't said he would come . . . it wasn't like she was expecting him . . .

Almost without his mind's input, his feet moved him the rest of the way towards the store. To his surprise, there were a lot of people inside. He pulled on the door and it opened. Was the signing still going on?

"Anyone need a Post-it? This is your last chance . . ."

What the hell?

Turning around, he saw Sara Lance, waving a pad of yellow Post-its and talking to the line of people, all of whom were holding copies of _Stray Wires_. She looked down the line and their eyes met.

It wasn't often he ran into his flings nowadays. With not hitting the club scene much and the whole 'missing for five years' aspect, a lot of those women had moved on. So seeing Sara here, it made him think back to the night he met Felicity and how much of a douche he had been.

"Ollie!" Sara's smile lit up her face as she walked over and kissed his cheek. "It's really good to see you."

He couldn't help smiling as he patted her back in a kind-of-hug. He didn't normally get greeted so . . . cheerfully. "Hi, Sara. It's good to see you, too. Although I wasn't expecting it."

She laughed. "Yeah, I'm still not much of a reader. But I'm best friends-slash-work for Felicity, so that's why I'm here tonight."

What? Wait. Felicity had mentioned a friend named Sara. Oliver blinked as it sank in. What were the odds that one of his exes would be friends with Felicity?

Sara's smile widened as if she knew what he was thinking. "We weren't expecting you to be here, either. Don't you have that benefit tonight?"

Nodding, Oliver smoothed down his suit jacket. "I slipped out to come over here. I thought I was too late."

"Nope, Felicity won't leave until everyone gets their book signed." She eyed him, then took his arm. "C'mon."

"What? Sara, no, I don't want to be a jerk-"

"A phrase you have never ever uttered before-who are you and what have you done with Oliver Queen?" Sara said, grinning at him over her shoulder. "Everyone will understand and this way you can get back to your benefit lickety-split."

He opened his mouth to protest again, but they were at the front of the line and Sara was whispering into the ear of the person who was now second in line and then shoving a copy of Felicity's book into his hands and then-

God, what was she wearing?

Of course he knew what she was wearing-it was a dress. But it was purple and form-fitting and had this triangle-shaped cutout right over the tops of her breasts and-and he was staring.

Which seemed to be okay, because Felicity was staring at him, too. Her eyes were huge behind her glasses and then she went red. "Oliver! I-I didn't know you'd be here."

She seemed taller, because she wasn't craning her neck as much to look up at him as she had the last time he had seen her.

"Um . . . yes. I mean-" Oliver gave his head a shake, making himself focus. "I wasn't sure I could make it, but I'm glad I did."

"Me, too," Felicity said, a bright smile flashing over her face.

So often when he was around Felicity, he found himself fighting the urge to smile. It was so different from the way he felt around his sister or Tommy or anyone else. Smiling at her felt . . . natural. And that was so unnatural that he couldn't understand it. All he knew was that he always settled for just quirking his lips a little.

"It-it looks like you had a good crowd," he said, trying to keep the conversation going.

Her cheeks went pink and she nodded. "I can't believe it-you should have seen it when I was speaking. It was crazy."

"I'm sorry I missed that," he said, meaning every word. He would have liked to see how Felicity Smoak carried herself when making a speech. Did she make a lot of jokes? Was she very serious? Did she smile like she had a minute ago?

"Oh, well, I don't know that I was very good, but-but everyone seemed to enjoy it."

"She was great," the man behind Oliver piped up. His words made Felicity blush even harder and Oliver glanced back at the guy, trying not to feel annoyed at how he was horning in on his moment with Felicity.

Sara appeared at Felicity's elbow and whispered in her ear, then stepped away. Felicity turned back to Oliver and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I need to sign for everyone in line so the store can close."

"Right-of course," Oliver said, holding out the book that Sara had given him earlier.

Felicity took the book and expertly flipped it open to the title page. He watched as she paused, looking thoughtful before she started writing with a bright green Sharpie marker. Taking advantage of her distraction, Oliver let his eyes sweep over her, lingering in certain spots, then stopped when he came to her shoes. For some reason, they tugged at his memory.

He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure they were the same heels she had worn at the signing they had done together six years ago. Sparkly, kind of purple-black.

And how he remembered her shoes, Oliver didn't know. But . . . but the bigger question in his mind was why he had remembered them at all.

Pursing her lips, Felicity blew lightly over the page and then closed the book, handing it back to him. "I . . . I hope you enjoy it," she said, touching her glasses in what he was realizing was a nervous gesture.

"I think I will," he said, holding the book against his torso, not wanting this moment to end. Not just yet. Wanting more time with her.

A throat being cleared, from the vicinity of behind him, made Felicity frown for a moment, then she gave him a shy smile. "See you around?"

"Yeah. Maybe tomorrow around nine at Jitters?"

Her eyes went wide again and Oliver couldn't help another half-smile. She was so captivating when she looked surprised. "Too early?" he asked, stepping in towards her.

"No! Not too early," she said, fidgeting with her Sharpie. "Nine's good."

Oliver nodded, still smiling at her. "See you then."

With that, he turned and headed towards the exit. If he was still Ollie, he wouldn't have looked back-he would have been confident she was watching him and wishing he wasn't walking away. But he couldn't help glancing back at Felicity as he exited the store.

She was signing for someone, talking with them and smiling. But for a second their eyes caught and . . . he felt something. Something good.

He gave her a quick wink and waited long enough to see her cheeks go pink before he stepped out of the shop and hustled to his car.

XXX

WEBG News at Ten  
><strong>Tiffany<strong>: Thank you, William. I'm here with Alderman Sebastian Blood, who represents the Glades. Alderman, tell me why you sponsored this benefit.

Blood: Well, politicians are known for wrangling and taking their time-but that's something the residents of the Glades don't have. So I wanted to cut through the red tape and get the money directly to those citizens most affected by the Undertaking.

Tiffany: You arranged this event with Oliver Queen, yes?

Blood: Yes, I did. If there's anyone who knows how to throw a party, it's Oliver Queen, of course. But then, it's because of people like him-

Queen: That we're able to be here tonight and make a difference for a lot of people. [steps into frame, a charming smile plastered on his face] My apologies. Didn't mean to step on your toes, Sebastian.

Blood: Nice of you to join us, Oliver.

XXX

The door of Star City Books had just closed behind them, Susan's thanks and praise still ringing in Felicity's ears, when Sara said tartly, "If I had known you were starring in a romantic comedy, Felicity, I would have pumped you for more details earlier."

Felicity bit her lip, looking at Sara and trying to figure out what to say. "I'm sorry?"

Sara rolled her eyes and not-so-gently elbowed her. "I'm not mad! Well, maybe a little, because . . . wow. I'm not joking-that was like a movie."

"It was not," Felicity said weakly, pulling her jacket closer around her as they walked towards Sara's car. She paused and looked at Sara. "It was that bad?"

"I kept waiting for music to start playing." Sara tilted her head to one side. "Something really sweet and romantic. Maybe with strings."

Giving Sara her best attempt at an equally ungentle elbow, Felicity blushed. "Now I know you're exaggerating."

"Not by much. Because there were some serious heart eyes going on," Sara said, some of the amusement fading from her voice.

She shifted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "I-I can't seem to help it," Felicity said softly, glancing at Sara as she spoke. "I mean, of course he's gorgeous and hot-hot as lava, but . . . but it's more than that."

"Ollie's changed," Sara agreed. "He's definitely not the same guy I used to hang out with. But y'know, Felicity-I wasn't talking about you with the heart eyes."

_What?_

No. No way. It was _not_ possible that Oliver had been- No. It was just Sara's imagination and Felicity's imagination seeing something that wasn't there, because she was just . . . _Felicity_ and she babbled and couldn't live without coffee and had to wear glasses all the time.

Although . . . he wanted to get coffee with her tomorrow morning. In the eyes of most people, that was a date. She hadn't dreamt that-Oliver had asked her to get coffee with him tomorrow, when he was bound to have a late night tonight with his benefit and any normal person would choose to sleep in, not get up early to have coffee with someone-

"Felicity?"

Blinking, she looked up and realized that Sara had taken several steps forward while she had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts. Her best friend looked at her with worried eyes as she walked back towards her.

"He . . . he asked me to meet him at Jitters tomorrow," Felicity said, her breath coming out in a rush.

Sara grinned widely and held her fist up. "Attagirl!"

"I don't think this calls for a fist bump, Sara," Felicity said, feeling a tiny smile tug at her lips.

"Oh, I think it does. Don't leave me hanging, then we'll go get some wine and talk about tonight."

Giving in, Felicity bumped fists with Sara. "Are you sure? I mean . . . it's not weird?"

"What? The fact that my best friend and boss is all gooey over a guy I slept with a few times?" Sara smirked. "Romantic comedy."

"And all the comedy comes from me acting like an idiot," Felicity said, feeling embarrassed.

With a snort, Sara led the way to Felicity's car. "I doubt that."

Felicity stayed quiet, wrapping her arms around her waist as she tried to process all this. Tonight had been so . . . crazy. It was the only word that fit, really. Because so much had happened and she felt like she had been in a tizzy the whole night.

And she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk over with Sara whatever this . . . thing, with Oliver, might be. Sara was her friend-she was going to encourage Felicity to believe that Oliver might be interested in her. But that would only get her hopes up, thinking that this was something more. Not when there were so many reasons why it made no sense.

Yet thinking about him made her stomach drop and her hands clench in her jacket. She was pretty sure it was too late. Her hopes were already up and as much as her head tried to get control, there was no stopping her heart. It was already imagining what might happen tomorrow, planning what she should wear, and coming up with natural ways to give him her phone number.

"I . . . I don't know, Sara," Felicity said, suddenly feeling very tired as the weight of everything settled on her shoulders. "Maybe we could skip the wine tonight."

"If you want . . ." Sara said, her voice trailing off for a moment. "Did something else happen tonight?"

The worry and concern in her voice made tears spring to Felicity's eyes. Reaching under her glasses, she quickly swiped at her eyes. "I . . . I lost it for a minute, before my speech," she admitted slowly.

"Oh, Felicity," Sara said, giving her a quick hug. "I couldn't tell at all."

"Really? That's good," Felicity said, feeling a small amount of relief. "I . . . I didn't want anyone to be disappointed."

Sara rubbed her shoulder as they approached Felicity's car. "No one was disappointed, I promise."

She could see Sara holding back on something-probably teasing her about Oliver. And the fact that Sara held back made Felicity so thankful that she had Sara as a friend. "I sense a but," Felicity said, giving Sara an opening.

"What? I was just going to say, _maybe_ Ollie was a little disappointed that he couldn't talk to you longer . . . but then, he's gonna get his chance tomorrow."

"I'm glad you're my friend-you feed my delusions so well," Felicity joked as she opened her car.

Sara snorted. "Yeah, you're delusional. Because it's not like he didn't sneak out of his own benefit to see you and _then_ invited you to get coffee tomorrow. Nope. Someone must have been holding a gun to his head to make that all happen."

Her words made a little flutter go through Felicity. To hide it, she started the car and pulled away from the curb, driving towards Sara's place as her friend kept up a steady stream of chatter about what Felicity should wear tomorrow.

With how Sara described Oliver's actions, the idea that Felicity wasn't imagining things didn't sound quite so ridiculous. So unbelievable. Of course, with all that Oliver was, it wasn't surprising that Felicity couldn't stop thinking about him. But if he was feeling even a little of the same about her . . .

If nothing else, maybe tomorrow would help her see if she had just imagined Oliver's impact on her writing. Because if they talked tomorrow and nothing happened with her writing, if she didn't start pounding out a chapter a week, then she would know that he didn't seem to have strange magical powers over her.

At least not when it came to her work.

Felicity felt her cheeks flush. God, how was she going to handle this? It was bad enough when she thought Oliver was just being nice. But the idea that he actually liked spending time with her . . . she could feel the babble already starting.

Sara looked over at Felicity as they arrived at her apartment building. "You still want to skip out on the wine and the rehash?"

Running her hands over the steering wheel, Felicity nodded slowly. "I think I need to be alone. But thank you, Sara-I really appreciate all your help. Not just tonight, but always."

"I know," Sara said, leaning over to give her a somewhat-awkward one-armed hug. "I want to know all the details tomorrow, though. Dinner, maybe?"

"Okay," Felicity said with a small smile.

"Big Belly on me," Sara said, hopping out of the car. But before she shut the door, she leaned down. "And Felicity?"

"Yeah, Sara?" she asked, wondering at how her friend paused before replying. Wondering what Sara was waiting to say.

"Go big or go home." Sara gave her a grin and then slammed the door shut. She walked up to her apartment building with a jaunty stride.

It was such a Sara piece of advice that Felicity couldn't help laughing. But . . . it was also very good advice, too. So as she drove home, Felicity tried to figure out just how she was going to go big.

XXX

Channel 52 Live at Eleven  
><strong>Kelli<strong>: [narrating] The lines stretched out of the store as eager fans of Felicity Smoak waited for her to begin her appearance.

[video footage of the crowd before the event started]

Kelli: This fan came all the way from Central City for tonight's signing.

[interview with fan, identified as Barry Allen]

Barry Allen: Since she's not touring for this book, and I've been a big fan of Felicity Smoak's for years, I had to come to this signing. [holds up his book, grinning proudly as he displays Felicity's signature across the title page]

[video footage of Felicity's first line of her speech]

Kelli: Staying long past the scheduled end of her signing, Ms. Smoak made sure that everyone had gotten their books signed before the end of the night.

[video footage of the end of the line, including a brief glimpse of Oliver entering the store]

Felicity Smoak: For all the people that came out tonight, it's the least I can do to make sure they get a signed copy of my book. If they want it, that is. But I love talking with my fans and I'm so grateful to them, especially with how long it's been since I published anything.

Kelli: One of Starling City's best and brightest showed why tonight. Back to you, Don.

End, Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 5/?

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T for now

**Summary**: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note**: I blame the midseason finale for the fluff invasion that has occurred. Hopefully, y'all don't mind. The plot is inching its way back into this fic, but until that's done, enjoy Oliver and Felicity having coffee together. :-)

My gift in the Tumblr Olicity Secret Santa exchange is amazing: a gifset for this series! It's so amazing that I wanted to share it. Check out my post for this chapter on my Tumblr to see a link to the gifset.

XXX

Book Whispers blog, October 15, 2013  
><strong>Rumor Central<strong>

-Remember Oliver Queen? The "author" of _The Frat Boy Way_? Word on the street has it that he's writing again. And this is no sequel to his first "book", either.

Starling Times, October 17, 2013  
><strong>Female Vigilante Spotted in The Glades<strong>

Over the last two months, a young female vigilante has appeared in the Glades. She has targeted those who attack women, prompting SCPD to put out a call for anyone with information on this new masked crime-fighter.

Starling magazine, October 2013  
><strong>Top 10 Nightclubs in Starling City<strong>

#3: Verdant. There's no sign of this ground-breaking club losing its edge with the novelty of a nightspot in the Glades wearing off. Founded by Tommy Merlyn and Oliver Queen and now run by Merlyn, Verdant still remains one of the best places to be seen in Starling City. Sure, the liquor quality can be hit-and-miss and the DJs spin the expected tracks, but you're bound to end up in the background of paparazzi shots-or maybe even be the center of one!

XXX

The door to his bedroom banged against the wall as Thea barrelled in. "Ollie, I need a ride, so get your ass outta-"

His sister blinked when she saw he wasn't in bed. "What are you doing up?"

"And good morning to you, too, Speedy," Oliver said, leaning back in his desk chair and closing his notebook.

"You're already dressed. Like you've been awake for a while."

"Because I have," Oliver said, standing up and walking over to her. "Since five-thirty."

It wasn't that early of a wake-up time for him, with how little he slept most nights. Last night he had even been home at a halfway-decent hour since he didn't have any Arrow-related business, other than quickly touching base with Digg to confirm that SCPD had taken down China White. But he couldn't exactly tell Thea that. Not just because of his other identity, but if he admitted the reason why he was already awake-his coffee date with Felicity-she'd want all the details.

And he wasn't very comfortable with the idea of Thea knowing that much about Felicity just yet.

Thea's eyebrows were already narrowed. His sister was smart as a whip-maybe not when it came to school, but she had a finely-tuned bullshit detector and could naturally read people better than he could, even after all his years of practice.

"You said you needed a ride?" he asked, taking a sip from the cup of coffee he had been nursing. "I was heading into town in a few minutes anyway, so I can drop you wherever you need to go."

That seemed to distract her. "Um, yeah. I'm going to Verdant."

Now it was Oliver's turn to blink. "Why . . .?"

She blew out a breath and folded her arms over her chest. "Because I've been helping Tommy run the place since . . . well, you know. There's a liquor delivery happening this morning and he's got physical therapy, so I said I'd take care of it."

Oliver had to take a step back as he processed everything Thea had just said. As some pieces fell into place. He'd noticed that Thea hadn't been around the house much, but since she had been mentioning the name Roy a lot, he had assumed she had a new boyfriend and they were spending time together. If Thea was spending time at Verdant, he wouldn't have noticed that. Even though the Foundry was underneath the club, Oliver hadn't crossed its threshold ever since Tommy had learned his secret. Other than the night of the Undertaking, when he had lifted the beam pinning his best friend.

And honestly . . . he felt relieved. Relieved that Tommy had help, relieved that it was someone who was sure to be looking out for his best interests. Because Thea was just as much Tommy's sister as Oliver's. So she would look out for Tommy.

Not that he was entirely happy with the idea of his baby sister, who was barely eighteen, working at a nightclub. Because while Thea had a tongue she wasn't afraid to use and a pretty good right hook, there were plenty of guys out there that would see her rebuffs as a reason to keep trying. He knew how guys acted when they were drunk and horny-he'd been one of them, once upon a time.

"You like working at Verdant?" he asked, eyeing Thea.

A small smile lit up her face as she nodded. "Yeah, I do. It's fun, and I'm helping Tommy." She frowned at him. "It sucks that you guys aren't talking."

"Yeah," Oliver said, scuffing one foot against the thick carpet. "But I did some shitty things, and he's angry at me for good reason. But until he's willing to talk, I'm just . . ." He let his voice trail off and he shrugged his shoulders.

Thea reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, surprising him. "He'll get over it, Ollie."

Leaning forward, Oliver hugged her back, smiling a little. "Thanks, Speedy."

He expected her to groan at the nickname and complain about it once again, but she just pulled back and grinned at him. "So why are you going into town?"

"Coffee with a friend," Oliver said, checking his watch and seeing that they had to get moving if he would be on time for Felicity. He picked up his notebook and pen, sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans, then walked over to his nightstand, hesitating as he wondered if he should bring along the copy of _Stray Wires_ Felicity had given him.

He had stayed up late last night reading it but had only gotten about a quarter of the way through. The articles that made up the bulk of the book were somewhat beyond him; so much had changed with technology in the five years he had been gone, and he'd never really been that savvy about computers to begin with. Still, he found that the quality of Felicity's writing made even the most technical of subjects interesting.

But the reason he hadn't made more progress was because he kept returning to the foreword, where she talked about her attack. Her attack and her recovery.

Not for the first time, he opened up the front cover and looked at the inscription she had written on the title page.

_For Oliver: someone that I hope will teach me more about surviving and living._

When he had first read it, he had just stared at the green-inked words, holding his breath as he remembered their conversation last December. Because . . . because what could he teach anyone about living? Surviving, yes. He had become an expert on that. It had been his father's last words to him: _Survive_. But living? Actually doing something with his life other than what was required to get through the day?

And if there was anyone who didn't need help living, it was Felicity Smoak. Even with what had happened to her, she was so damn alive that he had moments he wanted to squint when he looked at her. The life shone out of her like the sun.

"Earth to Ollie."

Looking up quickly as Thea came to a stop beside him, Oliver quickly shut the book. But not fast enough: Thea picked it up and looked at the cover, then flipped it over, revealing a candid shot of Felicity for her author portrait. It was similar to how she had looked last December: hair back in a curly blonde ponytail, glasses, bright pink lips.

"She's pretty, for a nerd," Thea said, looking up at Oliver. "Not your normal thing, is it?"

"She's just a friend," he replied quickly, grabbing the book and tucking it under his arm. "We should get going."

Thea stared at him before a mischievous smirk appeared on her face. "I meant reading books, not the writer. You know her?"

Oliver resisted the urge to groan. He hadn't wanted to give anything away, but he had. And now Thea would be like a dog with a bone. "Yes, I do. She lives here in Starling."

"Hmmm," Thea said, the wheels in her head turning. But instead of asking him anything more about Felicity, she changed gears. "How's the writing going?"

"Okay, I guess," he said, keeping his voice light. "And thank you for asking."

His sister shrugged and smiled at him. "I know Mom's not thrilled about it, but I think it's great. And if you ever meet John Green, I want a signed book."

"Who?" Oliver asked.

That set Thea off, talking about some author who wrote very popular books and was 'cute in a geeky way' and how she knew his last book was pretty manipulative but it was still really good and 'you should definitely read it, Ollie'.

Her chatter eventually morphed into easy conversation between the two of them, talking about anything and everything as they went into the city. As he listened to her, Oliver realized that Thea was only the second person to encourage him in this new part of his life. Who thought he was doing the right thing by writing.

And the first person to think that was Felicity.

XXX

Okay, she could do this. It wasn't a date. It was just coffee. And if, for some reason, Oliver had changed his mind and stood her up, she had her laptop and her notes and she could take advantage of the cozy chairs at Jitters and the excellent coffee to get some work done.

But deep down, she didn't think he was going to stand her up. And that . . . that was more terrifying than the prospect of him not showing up.

Felicity stepped into Jitters, basking in the cheery warmth of the shop and feeling her nerves calm slightly. The weather outside was gray and drizzly, which made curling up inside an even more attractive proposition. With years of experience working in coffee shops, Felicity quickly found a table that not only had access to an outlet, but gave her a good line of sight to the front door. Setting down her bag, she unpacked her laptop and plugged it in before pulling up the file for her new book, skimming through it slowly.

The more she read, the deeper she could feel herself frown. Because . . . it just wasn't working. She liked the topic, she was enjoying the research, and she was even recalling long-forgotten memories from her own life. Like how as a five-year-old, she had learned how to unthread tapes from the battered VCR they had, because the machine kept eating the tapes and ruining her movies.

Yet she didn't think any of that interest or enjoyment was coming through in her writing. The words felt so bland and flat on the page and she just didn't understand why.

"Felicity?"

Oliver's soft voice made her startle, her knee banging into the underside of the table. "Oh! Oliver!"

She was so flustered, she nearly missed the sight of a near-actual smile on his face. It was definitely bigger than the little half-smiles she usually got from him. "Okay there?" he asked, his voice sounding amused.

Nodding quickly, she stood up. "Yes! Fine. I'm fine. We're all fine here now . . . and I just made a _Star Wars_ reference. I did not expect that to happen. At least not so soon. A girl wants to work up to revealing just how nerdy she is."

"Is _Star Wars_ really that nerdy, though? Everyone likes _Star Wars_," Oliver said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a book tucked under one arm. His smile was smaller now but still warm and his eyes were focused on her.

"Point. It's totally mainstream now," Felicity said, unable to not return his smile. "Hi. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too," he said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and setting the book down. Felicity felt her cheeks turn pink as she realized it was _Stray Wires_. "Ready for coffee?" Oliver asked, sounding a bit brisk. Like he didn't want to talk about how he was carrying around her book.

Even though the curiosity was almost managing to win out over her nerves, Felicity nodded. "I am always ready for coffee."

A small, silent chuckle escaped Oliver as they headed towards the line. Felicity fought the urge to fist pump. "You really like coffee."

"It's my greatest vice," she conceded, smiling at him. "Because it's a lot less expensive than the vices I wish I could have."

"Such as?" he asked, standing beside her in line, just a foot of space between them.

"Gadgets. Shoes. Things like that," she said, adjusting her glasses and looking up at the menu board, even though she had it memorized. But it let her handle the butterflies in her stomach.

But not when she realized after a moment that he was looking at her. No . . . he was practically _gazing_ at her. And that-that was just not fair, because knowing that he was so focused on her made those butterflies fly around so fast, it was like her stomach was full of ping-pong balls.

She turned her head to look at him, locking her eyes with his. It was a motivation that she didn't really understand-and it certainly wasn't a hardship to look at Oliver-but it was more than that. It was like she wanted him to know she could stand toe-to-toe with him. And she wanted to know what he would do if she challenged him a little.

After a long, breathless moment, Oliver smiled a little. "I noticed last night that you only wear glasses now."

"My glasses . . . oh, yeah," she said, her fingers once again touching the side of her frames. "Yes, glasses only for me."

"Is it because of what happened to you?" he asked, his voice quiet.

There was no pity in his voice, no hint that he was going to follow up her answer with some cliche like 'at least you're alive'. There was just a sense of . . . sympathy. A matter-of-fact understanding.

Felicity nodded. "My left eye was damaged-there's surgery that could fix it, but my health insurance wouldn't pay for it-so I can't wear contacts anymore."

"Do you miss them?" he asked, taking a step forward as the line moved closer to the counter.

Tilting her head to one side, she considered her answer while part of her mind wondered why no one had ever asked her that question. "A little, but I like my glasses."

"They're very . . . you," he said, his momentary hesitation making her look at him a bit closer. Which, again, not a hardship. Not with the way Oliver Queen made a sweater and jeans look that good.

Also, she had no idea what to say to that. 'Thank you'? 'Do you see me as such a massive nerd that you can't picture me without glasses'? 'Do glasses turn you on'?

Her cheeks went pink and she fumbled in her purse. "I'm paying for the coffees today. No arguments, Mr. Queen."

"Noooo, Mr. Queen was my father," Oliver said lightly. "But since you feel so strongly about it, I don't mind having you buy me coffee." He gave her a grin that had the slightest hint of cheekiness to it, and she realized that he was almost-no, he was _flirting_ with her.

Sara's words from last night, about Felicity starring in a rom-com and Oliver having heart eyes, popped into her head and she felt her hands go clammy around her wallet. "Not-not something you're used to, I guess?" she asked, her voice a bit higher-pitched than normal.

"What, not being the one to pick up the tab for once or a pretty woman buying me something?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she saw his eyes go wide for a split-second. Like he was surprised by what he had said. That made two of them: because Oliver was definitely flirting with her, he had just called her pretty, and . . . and it was getting nearly impossible for her to deny what was staring her in the face.

He liked her.

XXX

What the hell was his mouth doing?

Why did being around Felicity Smoak make him feel like he had no control over what he said? First last night with asking her out for coffee (because he hadn't asked a woman out on something that could be construed as a date in a very long time-much longer than six years) and now today. Because the man he was now didn't do charming flirtation like he had before the island.

But with Felicity . . . he did. Although he wasn't flirting like he had when he was younger. No, this was a lot more innocent-but a hell of a lot more intimate. And it felt really good but also a bit like his whole world was getting turned upside-down.

He could see that she was shocked that he had called her pretty, with how wide her eyes were and how her lips parted slightly. It was a look he had seen on her face before, one that he seemed to keep causing. Maybe because it was a good look. She wasn't jaded or cynical like so many of the people he knew. Her emotions were right there on the surface: she didn't hold anything back.

Even when it was awkward. Like right now.

Thankfully, their turn came up, and Felicity quickly rattled off a request for a tall vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin. Oliver added his order, and the time it took to pay and get their drinks let him regain his equilibrium.

Asking Felicity to coffee was an impulse, yes. The kind of impulse he rarely gave into as Oliver Queen. As the Arrow, he relied on his instincts, on split-second decisions that he often didn't fully understand. His instincts were saying that Felicity was something different. Someone he wanted to know. So . . . what would be so wrong with giving in to the impulse?

Oliver watched her out of the corner of his eye as they moved towards their table. Felicity was stepping carefully with her very full mug of coffee, making him think of Thea when she was little and just learning to walk.

But the last thing he wanted to do was compare Felicity to his sister. His reaction to her last night, to the sight of her very nice legs in her form-fitting dress, meant that was not the road to go down.

The strange tension was back with a vengeance, and Oliver fell back on small talk. Even if it was no replacement for the easy back-and-forth conversation they were having before he blurted out that she was pretty, with all the finesse of a teenager at his first dance. "This is a good table," he said as he eased into the chair that would let him see the front door.

"The plug is God," Felicity chirped, giving him a too-bright smile as she gestured at her laptop's power cable, inserted into an outlet under the table. Then she paused and tilted her head to one side. "Or is it free wi-fi? Maybe the plug is like, an apostle or something? I'm Jewish, so the whole Jesus and the apostles thing is really confusing to me. No, I think the plug is still God, because without electricity there would be no way to access wi-fi, so . . ."

She trailed off, her face going a very flattering shade of pink. "These are the kinds of things I think about. Normally I don't just babble away about them, though." She took a long swallow from her coffee, looking away from him.

Which was probably a good thing, because he was fighting really hard not to grin at her. Which was another impulse-at least he was able to hold back on that one. Because Oliver Queen did not grin. Even at nerdy, pretty girls who babbled, with pink cheeks and bright eyes and constantly-moving hands with turquoise-blue nails.

"I've never thought about the apostles," he said, taking a sip of coffee to fully squelch his grin. "But why is the plug so important?"

"There is nothing worse than a dying laptop battery and words that just have to get put down," Felicity said, giving a small shudder before smiling at him. "Even though I carry an extra battery, I always look for an outlet when I'm working someplace other than home."

His forehead wrinkled a little. "So . . . you go to other places to write?"

Felicity nodded as she drank some coffee and then put aside her mug, a few feet from her laptop. She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. "A lot."

"But . . . why?"

"I don't understand," she replied, looking confused.

"Don't you need to concentrate?" he asked curiously. "I mean, all the noise here-how can you get anything done?"

He felt even more confused when she laughed. "It's a coffee shop, not a nightclub! All the noise just becomes this hum in the background. Besides, if I didn't write in coffee shops or libraries, I'd never leave my apartment." She broke off a piece of her muffin and offered it to him. When he shook his head, she popped it into her mouth.

"Huh," Oliver said. It made sense, the desire to not stay in her apartment all the time. But he couldn't imagine wanting to write anywhere but his bedroom. Where he wouldn't be disturbed . . . and no one would know what he was doing. He might have gotten into the habit of carrying his notebook with him, but he never just pulled it out and wrote when he wasn't at home.

But this was Felicity. The woman who told him he had potential. Who didn't know that he was trying to become a writer.

"Deep thoughts?" she asked him as she finished chewing.

Huffing out a laugh, he shook his head. "No, not really. I guess . . . I just haven't wanted to write anywhere but in my room."

She stared at him for a moment, then one of those bright, beaming smiles appeared on her face. "You're writing again?"

What was that in her voice? There was some tone that he didn't really recognize. He almost wanted to call it . . . pride.

Oliver took a breath, feeling his fingers rub against his thumb, and nodded. "I-I actually started earlier this year."

"That's amazing, Oliver!" If it wasn't for the table between them, he was pretty sure Felicity would have thrown her arms around him. Which oddly made him slightly resent the table. She leaned forward again. "How far along are you? Who are you working with? What direction are you going in?"

The enthusiasm practically bubbled out of her and Oliver felt his breath catch. When he had told his mother and Thea, they had been cautious. Confused. They hadn't been excited for him-not like this. And he hadn't realized how much he wanted this. Support, encouragement-almost glee.

And then he noticed the expression on Felicity's face. It was still excited, but it had softened a little, into something warmer. Something that made him feel so aware of her that his whole body almost tingled from the electricity.

Because . . . because he was smiling at her. Really smiling. And suddenly he understood why he had been holding back with her.

XXX

If she hadn't been so thrilled to hear that Oliver was writing, the impact of him giving her that smile would have killed her. Because a smiling Oliver was . . . it was good. Really, really good. A top-of-the-line computer system with built-in espresso maker and untraceable Internet good.

But she was more focused on his revelation and how giddy she felt. Because she knew he could do this, and she was so happy that he had listened to her, and it had been on the tip of her tongue to ask him to show her what he was working on, but thank God she had managed to hold _that_ back. Such a request would be moving way too fast.

Felicity gently poked a finger against Oliver's hand where it rested on the tabletop. "Don't leave me hanging!" she said with a laugh. "You can't just say that and not expect me to want to know more."

Oliver shifted in his seat, his shoulders hunching up towards his ears for a moment before lowering back into place. "You really want to know?"

"I really want to know," Felicity said, taking a quick sip of her coffee. "Anything you want to tell me, any questions you have . . . let me be your Obi-wan." She grinned, acknowledging the reference, and then leaned back, wrapping her hands around her mug.

His eyebrow quirked. "You're going to teach me the ways of the Force and turn me into a Jedi?"

That . . . that should not be so hot. Felicity blinked and swallowed, watching as Oliver ducked his head for a moment before looking back at her. "How . . . you just quoted _Star Wars_ to me," she said, trying to sound like she wasn't melting into a puddle.

He opened his mouth, then closed it and smiled a little. It was one of those half-smiles, which Felicity was grateful for. If she got the whole enchilada now-the smile with teeth and dancing eyes-she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions. "I am male, you know," Oliver said, lifting his mug and sipping it slowly. "I've seen _Star Wars_ more than a few times."

"Don't think you can distract me," Felicity said, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. I just got excited."

"No-don't be sorry," he said, setting his mug down and fixing his eyes on her. "It's nice. To have someone be so excited. My family were a bit more . . . cautious."

There was so much that was going unsaid. She could see how carefully he was picking his words, and in the back of her mind she thought that he was probably one of those writers who deliberated over each and every word he wrote. So she wanted to take an equal amount of care in how she phrased her questions.

"Your mother and your sister?" she asked quietly, holding on to her coffee mug tightly so she wouldn't start fidgeting.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. They're happy for me, but . . ." He let his voice trail off, and then he traced the rim of his mug with one long finger. There was something so sad about the gesture, so forlorn, that her hand actually moved to wrap her fingers around his.

When she realized what she was doing, Felicity yanked her hand back and took a breath. "My mother is a cocktail waitress in Las Vegas," she blurted out. "Most of the time, I think she wonders where I came from. How she got a daughter like me."

His eyes locked with hers. "I think my parents wondered the same thing about me. How their son could be so . . . well." He lifted his mug, tilting it back to drain the rest of his coffee, before setting it down beside her book, which she _still_ hadn't asked him about and she was really shocked she had managed to hold back on that, but then . . . there were plenty of other surprises happening today.

Like Oliver Queen opening up like this.

"So what?" Felicity asked, wondering if he would continue talking about this or change the subject.

The slightly sheepish, slightly nervous smile and the half-shrug of one shoulder were adorable. She could suddenly imagine Oliver as a child, preparing to share something embarrassing and being ridiculously charming while doing so.

"You met me. You saw what I was like before," he said, his fingertips rubbing against his thumb.

"I did," Felicity said, tilting her head to one side. "I'm kind of glad I'm getting to know you now, instead of back then."

It wasn't until the words were out of her mouth that she realized just how much she meant them. Because six years ago, she had been attracted to and intrigued by Oliver Queen. But now? Both the attraction and intrigue had increased exponentially and she just wanted to know more.

She wanted to know him. Because she liked him. A lot. And this could be something more than just like, maybe, given time. It could be something special.

Quickly, before she started babbling something embarrassing, she reached out and tapped her fingernails against the copy of _Stray Wires_ he had brought with him. "What did you think?"

Her question broke the tension, just like she hoped it would. But then she realized what she had opened herself up to: criticism of a book that she knew wasn't her best work. Like any other writer, accepting criticism was hard for her. She always ended up feeling like she had failed the reader if they spotted any flaws in her work.

He took a moment to respond, his face showing a range of tiny emotions in his eyes and his lips-and she really shouldn't be looking at his mouth right now-before he relaxed a little. "I liked it. What I've read so far, I mean. Some of the articles go over my head."

"Of . . . of course," she said, shifting a little in her chair. "A lot can change in technology in five years."

"And I never really paid much attention to computers before, so . . . yes." Oliver gave her a small smile, then opened the book. He flipped through a few pages, until he reached an article she had written for _Wired_ three years ago about Instagram. "Like this article, I don't understand what the big deal is with the filters?"

"I didn't either, at first," Felicity said, reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone. "Let me show you the app-that's how all of these trendy apps get you. You start playing with it and before you know it, you'll be taking pictures of your food and bemoaning the bad lighting in so many restaurants."

Oliver's eyebrows drew together slightly, giving him a befuddled look that shouldn't be hot but was. "Taking pictures of your food?"

"Oh, yes," Felicity said with a grin, moving her chair a little so they could both see the screen of her phone. "No judgement when you see my profile, though."

She felt more than heard the huff of air he let out in a silent laugh. "No. No judgement."

End, Chapter 5

**Author's Note 2**: Thanks to the Christmas holidays, and wanting to get some extra writing done, I will be taking next week off. See y'all next year!


	6. Chapter 6

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 6/?  
><strong>Author<strong>: dettiot  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T for now  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Hey, look, the plot came back! And that means things are about to get really complicated for Oliver and Felicity-both independently and together.

XXX

Starling City Tattler, November 12, 2013  
><strong>Wherefore Art Thou, Ollie?<strong>

Ever since his return from a summer in Europe, Starling City's favorite playboy has been keeping a low profile. It makes us here at the _Tattler_ ask, just what is Oliver Queen doing? He's not running Verdant-that's the task for his baby sister Thea and apparently former best friend Tommy Merlyn. He's not gone legitimate by working at Queen Consolidated, although rumors have it Mama Queen keeps hoping that will happen. As far as we can tell, Oliver mostly spends his time at Jitters, that popular coffee spot in the Glades. Often with a fetching spectacled blonde, but whether it's the coffee or the girl that draws him to Jitters remains to be seen.

Starling Examiner, November 17, 2013  
><strong>Keeping Women Safe: The Coal Mine Dojo<strong>

Open since January of 2012, the Coal Mine Dojo has always offered traditional martial arts and boxing lessons. But they've begun to expand into classes designed strictly for women, which are focused on self-defense.

"It's important that women learn how to fight in a way that works for them," says Sara Lance, the head instructor of the women's self-defense program. "No woman should ever suffer at the hands of men."

XXX

Practically jogging down the steps of the main staircase in Queen Manor, Oliver checked his watch as he reached the ground floor. Over the last few weeks, he and Felicity had fallen into the habit of meeting at Jitters on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to have coffee. Sometimes she helped explain elements of the publishing world to him. Sometimes it was about helping him get caught up on the technology and pop culture he had missed. And recently, the times that had become his favorite, they would each work on their writing. Felicity would tap away on her laptop while Oliver wrote longhand, even though Felicity kept teasing him about being a Luddite.

Those quiet times, when they could be together yet caught up in their own unique worlds, were his favorite because he had never experienced anything like it. Felicity liked to talk, but when she was focusing on her work, she could give him a run for his money when it came to blocking out the world. Actually, she could get lost more than he could, since he could never fully give up his awareness. But more than that . . . it soothed something inside him, to sit with Felicity and glance up at her every so often while searching for the right word, and take in her narrowed eyes and pursed lips. If she realized he was looking at her, she would go pink and smile, her fingers fluttering to her glasses or, very rarely, to the left side of her neck, before she returned to work.

There was no set time for them to meet at Jitters; whoever arrived first grabbed 'their' table and got to work, and when the other showed up, they would get their coffee. Most of the time, he was the first one there, but today he was running behind schedule, thanks to a very late night as the Hood. That was why he was hurrying so much that he didn't notice his mother until she spoke to him.

"Oliver, before you go rushing off, I need a moment of your time."

Drawing up short, Oliver held back a quiet curse. He had sensed Moira had something on her mind, and he was pretty sure what it was: Queen Consolidated. The CEO search was taking more time than anyone had anticipated-through no fault of Walter's-and the company was barely treading water. So he was fairly sure she was going to push him to take over as interim CEO. And once he was installed as the interim CEO, Moira would hope that Oliver would get over his reservations and 'accept his rightful place' in the family business.

It was like something out of a soap opera, he thought as he turned to face his mother. Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded. "Of course, Mom."

"There's no need to pretend that grimace is a smile, Oliver," Moira chided him gently, reaching up to brush a bit of lint off his dark henley. "I was hoping that if you were going anywhere near Verdant, you might tell Thea that I'd like all of us to have dinner tonight. Just the family."

"And why can't you just tell her yourself?" Oliver asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Moira eyed him, then her shoulders dropped slightly. "Thea is doing her best to ignore me right now, after I expressed some reservations about how much time she's spending with Roy."

Frowning a little, Oliver thought over the last few weeks. It was true, Thea had been spending more and more time with the mysterious Roy when she wasn't at Verdant. And he'd noticed that Thea and their mom seemed to be fighting a lot. But there still seemed something a little bit off about this request.

"I'll be in the neighborhood . . . I guess I could stop by Verdant," he said slowly. "What time tonight?"

"Six-I thought we'd have dinner early, for Thea's sake. Oh, and if you run into Tommy, make sure he knows he's invited, too."

And there it was. Oliver shot his mother a look. "Really, Mom?"

"What?" Moira said, taking the leather jacket he held in his hands and holding it out for him to put on. "I know you and Tommy haven't been in touch and it would be a shame to lose a lifelong friendship over a fight I'm sure was about nothing."

He yanked the jacket back from his mother and pulled it on roughly. "Mom, just leave it alone."

There was no way he could explain to Moira why he and Tommy were in this limbo. Because it all came down to Tommy's discovery that he was the Hood. To the mistakes that Oliver had made. When he had returned to Starling City, he had held out hope that time would heal these wounds. But that hope had faded and now . . .

"Have you tried to talk to Tommy? You know how he is; he can't hold a grudge. If you just bent a little and said you're sorry, I'm sure this would all be-"

"I said leave it, Mom!"

Moira took a step back, her eyes widening slightly at his raised voice. But she gathered herself and when she spoke, her voice was icy. "What kind of example are you setting for Thea, Oliver? First this falling-out with Tommy, then your refusal to do your part for Queen Consolidated while you flit around Europe and play at being an author . . ."

It took a moment for his mother's words to sink in, for him to understand what she was saying. And then the shock and confusion was replaced with anger: a cold, banked ember that flamed into an inferno within a split-second.

"Isn't it rich that you want me to be an example for Thea now, when I lost five years because I refused to let you and Dad cut me out of her life?"

The blow hit home. Moira closed her eyes for a long moment. "Oliver . . ." she said softly, but he was done.

"I'll give Thea your message, but I won't be at dinner," he said, yanking the front door open. It would be satisfying to slam the door, but Diggle was standing on the porch and looked very curious. So Oliver just drew the door shut, a bit firmer than normal, and stalked over towards the Bentley.

"Verdant first, then Jitters," Oliver said once Digg climbed behind the wheel. He pulled out his phone to let Felicity know he was delayed. And to give himself something that made him look busy so Digg wouldn't ask any questions.

XXX

This was when she wished she had an extra hand, Felicity thought as she tried to juggle her tablet, her phone and her purse, while she tried to get her laptop bag settled higher on her shoulder and pull her keys out of the little ceramic bowl she always tossed them into when she entered her apartment. She had overslept this morning, which meant no self-defense class (the second one she'd skipped in a week and a half, which made her feel guilty about skipping out on Sara and annoyed at wasting money for classes she wasn't attending) and now she was just struggling to get out the door to meet Oliver.

Her phone ringing made her drop her purse and sent her laptop bag sliding off her shoulder and down her arm. Sighing, Felicity let her laptop join her purse on the floor as she answered the call. "Hello?"

"Good, you answered."

At the sound of Laurel's voice, Felicity scrunched up her face. "H-hi, Laurel."

"You've been dodging me. What's wrong?" Laurel's voice was no-nonsense, but Felicity thought she heard something else, too. "Or are you just having too much fun with my sister to do any work?"

Ah. There it was. Although Felicity wasn't sure it was jealousy . . . more like frustration.

"There's nothing wrong," Felicity said quickly. "It's coming a bit slower than my other books, but I think the extra time means that I'm closer to a finished product. I'll need to spend less time in copy edits."

"I did kind of think that with the chapter you sent me," Laurel admitted after a long pause. "And that's good."

Felicity nodded, feeling some of the tension ebb. "You've always thought I took too long editing-well, this time, I won't. We'll be able to get this book out a lot faster from a printing standpoint, because I won't be spending six months doing edits. Which means I can build on _Stray Wires_ and I know how important that is."

"More than you know," Laurel said. "Do you have any more chapters done?"

This whole phone call was giving her the heebie-jeebies. Because now she was wondering just what Laurel meant by 'more than you know' and if it was about all the rumors surrounding Ex Astris, or if it was something else. Because this new book was the last one on her contract with the publisher, and Felicity knew it had to be good. Because if it wasn't, it would hurt Ex Astris and they probably wouldn't give her a new contract, not with their financial issues. And if Ex Astris went under and the new book was a flop, it'd make it a lot harder to get a contract with a new publisher.

So that was why she gave an answer that was probably slightly too optimistic. "I've gone one chapter nearly done, and another that's maybe two-thirds done."

"Send me both chapters whenever you finish them," Laurel said. "Ex Astris is excited about getting a book of all-new material from you and they want to promote it and make a big splash. If . . ."

Laurel's voice trailed off, and Felicity decided to take the bull by the horns. "Laurel? How worried should I be about Ex Astris?"

"No matter what happens, they're going to publish this book," Laurel said firmly. "If they didn't, they know they're going to get sued for breach of contract, and that's the last thing they need on top of everything else."

"You would really do that?" Felicity asked, feeling shocked.

"Well . . . you can't get blood from a stone, but it's a good threat to have in your back pocket," Laurel said.

In short: she wouldn't actually do it, but she wasn't above claiming she would. "You are wasted on agenting, Laurel. You should be sending criminals and mob bosses away for life."

"My father says the same thing whenever he talks about my student loans from law school," Laurel said with a rusty laugh. "But then, he's also thankful I got out of Starling."

Felicity hummed a little, not really wanting to agree or disagree with Laurel. Or wanting to ask, flat-out, all the questions she had about the Lance family. But as close as she was with all of them, none of them had ever volunteered an explanation, and Felicity didn't want to dredge up something painful for them.

"I think I could get you both chapters by the end of next week," Felicity said. "You'd have about two-thirds of the book then, in case Ex Astris is getting impatient."

"Sounds great," Laurel said. "Hey, have you run into Ollie lately?"

"Ollie?" Felicity blinked, not prepared for the change of subject. Or for Laurel to call Oliver by his nickname-by that holdover from the days before he had disappeared, the nickname that really didn't fit him anymore.

Laurel laughed, this time a bit more naturally. "Oliver Queen. I know you know him-Sara mentioned in an email that you guys were hanging out together. I heard through the grapevine that he's writing something."

So both of the Lance sisters knew Oliver? Knew him well enough to call him Ollie? For some reason, Oliver's words at their very first meeting-about letting beautiful women call him Ollie-floated through her mind before Felicity gave her head a good shake. Just because he flirted with her and got coffee with her three mornings a week didn't mean Oliver was actually interested in her. After all, it had been weeks and nothing had happened that could be construed as actual legitimate interest. And what was the big deal about Laurel inquiring about someone who was clearly an old friend of hers?

"Um, I'm actually meeting him for coffee this morning," Felicity admitted.

"Tell him I said hi and that if he wants an agent who's more ethical than Isabel Rochev, he should call me. Not that it's hard to find an agent more ethical than that bottom-feeder," Laurel said.

See? Felicity told herself. Perfectly innocent and understandable. "Of course," Felicity said, striving to sound cheerful.

"Great-thanks, Felicity. I'm looking forward to the next two chapters-the ones I've read so far have brought back a lot of memories for me."

"Me, too," Felicity said. "Talk to you later."

Laurel hung up and Felicity lowered her phone. It was nice of Laurel to say she was looking forward to more. Felicity still wasn't sure if this book was good or not-she couldn't put her finger on it, but something seemed to be missing. But hearing Laurel say that the book was bringing back memories was interesting. It fit with what Felicity was experiencing, all kinds of childhood memories emerging from the depths of her mind . . .

Determinedly, she focused on those memories, on the idea that had been teasing her for the last month, and not on the question that had suddenly appeared in her mind.

The question of whether Laurel, like her sister, had some kind of connection with Oliver.

XXX

Eye on Publishing blog, November 21, 2013  
><strong>New Blood at Ex Astris?<strong>

A new rumor has been added to the mix about Ex Astris, the troubled imprint of Penguin Random House. It looks like Martha Ellis, the imprint's head since its founding seven years ago, might be on the way out. On a short leash ever since the formal merger of Penguin with Random House nearly six months ago, Ellis has reportedly rubbed some of the top brass the wrong way with her refusal to change course at the imprint.

Literary Launchpad blog, November 24, 2013  
><strong>The 50 Best Agents Under Thirty-Five<strong>

37. Laurel Lance, LL Literary: The kind of women who would be called a broad in a 1930s movie, Laurel Lance is a savvy negotiator and possesses a keen eye for talent. Better if you need someone to handle the business side of things.

5. Isabel Rochev, Inkwell: The highest-ranked female agent is also perhaps the most ruthless. She doesn't pull her punches and she's loyal as long as you're selling, but there's no one better if you need someone to kick down the door for you.

XXX

As he walked out of Verdant, Oliver ran his hands along his jaw and then clasped them over the back of his neck, wishing he had the time to go down to the Foundry and burn off all . . . this. All the anger and frustration, all the ways he wished his life wasn't like this.

The conversation with Thea hadn't gone well. She was pissed that he was passing messages for their mother-not that he wasn't equally upset, but he wasn't ready to tell Thea why he was angry with Moira. It was the wrong time to have that particular conversation, to dredge up how Robert forced Oliver to go on the Queen's Gambit. Thea still had good memories of their father and Oliver was hoping to keep it that way for a little while longer.

To make matters worse, Tommy had appeared and Thea had made a dig about them not being friends anymore. It had hit him hard, when he knew Thea had the same hopes as he did about making up with Tommy. But she was lashing out, just like she always did. And meanwhile, Tommy hadn't said anything to soften the blow. He had just sat there in his chair, looking up at Oliver with dark, unforgiving eyes.

It was a clusterfuck, one that Oliver had walked into knowing it would be a disaster but still unprepared for how it made him feel.

Diggle eyed him as he approached the car. "You sure you want to go see the mystery blonde in this condition?"

"Felicity-her name is Felicity!" Oliver snapped, before he stopped and sighed. "Digg . . ."

With a surprising amount of gentleness, given his frankly impressive musculature, Diggle took Oliver's arm and steered him towards the alley entrance to the Foundry. "You'll regret showing up to see Felicity like this. She already knows you're going to be late-wait until you've calmed down before you meet up with her."

Part of him wanted to jerk his arm away and stomp off, but he knew Digg was right. And having Digg watch his back like this-not in a life-or-death situation, but in a way that protected Oliver Queen and not the Hood-was comforting. It eased the knot of anger inside his gut, at least a little.

Once they were inside the Foundry, Digg slid off his jacket and undid his cuffs, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He went to the basket of tennis balls and started tossing one in the air. Knowing what Diggle was suggesting, Oliver slid off his leather jacket.

With his quiver in place and his bow in his hand, he could already feel the anger starting to drain away. You couldn't be frustrated and precise at the same time. He missed the first ball that Digg launched into the air, earning a soft snort. But Oliver quickly adjusted as Digg went from just one ball at a time to multiples. After ten minutes, the back wall was covered in arrow-speared tennis balls and Oliver gestured to Digg to stop.

"Okay, now talk," Diggle said, rolling his sleeves down as he approached Oliver.

That was the last thing he wanted to do-not when he finally felt like he was under control. But Digg had that look about him, the one that said he wasn't going to let Oliver off the hook this easily.

So Oliver replaced his bow and quiver and turned to face Digg. "I have a blonde problem."

Digg let out another snort. "Not the first time you've had this problem, I bet."

"Actually, it is-I always preferred brunettes," Oliver said, leaning back against one of the metal tables. "But I'm not talking about Felicity. It's about the female vigilante."

"Ah. That blonde," Diggle said slowly. "I didn't realize you had been thinking about her."

He shrugged. "There's been a lot going on. And now that she's starting to attract more attention, I think it's time to find her. Figure out what her priorities are. Make sure she's not killing."

"You're not exactly in a position to get on a high horse about that, Oliver."

"I realize that," Oliver said, not taking offense to Digg's comment. "But just because I used to kill doesn't give others a license to do the same." He paused and managed a small smile. "'Do as I say, not as I do.'"

His bodyguard softly chuckled. "My mother said that to me all the time."

"Mine, too," Oliver said. "We need to find this woman."

With a nod, Diggle gestured to the computers. "I'll stay here, do some searches. Too bad we don't have some computer expert around to help out, though. An attractive blonde that writes all about computers, for example."

"You really want to talk about Felicity, huh?" Oliver said, crossing his arms over his chest and working to keep his voice light.

"I'm concerned, man," Diggle said, choosing his words carefully. "You're clearly interested in her, but there's a lot going on, like you said."

It took him a few moments to figure out how to reply. How to describe the relationship he had with Felicity while stripping all the emotion out of his words, to keep Digg from being even more interested in what she might mean to him. Just like he wasn't really ready for Thea to know about Felicity, he didn't really want to reveal all his secrets to Diggle. The only way he could do this-keep all the parts of his life from collapsing on top of him-was by keeping the people in his life in their places. Thea was home, family, all the good stories from his childhood. Digg was the Foundry and the Hood; his brother in arms. Tommy, even though they were on the outs, was friendship and now-rare moments of relaxation.

Felicity . . . Oliver wasn't sure what her place was exactly. Yes, she was his friend. But that wasn't enough to describe her. Because he didn't flirt with friends like he flirted with Felicity. Which was a problem-he shouldn't be flirting with her. Even though he had pulled back on the flirting after that first coffee meeting, there were still too many times he slipped up. Even though she was attractive in a way he had never noticed before he met her. It wasn't about her legs or her smile or her eyes. It was just . . . her.

And that was another reason he needed to keep this as just friends. She was different. She supported his writing, encouraged him when he felt blocked, served as a sounding board without even realizing it. The only reason he'd achieved as much as he had so far was thanks to their writing dates-sessions, they were sessions, he corrected himself. If he went too far with the flirting, or if they tried anything more . . . he wasn't sure he could keep writing without her.

"We're just friends, Digg," Oliver finally said. He knew that wasn't enough, so he kept talking. "We did a book signing, right before I left on the Queen's Gambit. And then, after I came back . . . I ran into her a few times. She encouraged me to write, so when I started focusing on it, it made sense to ask her for advice."

Diggle made a small noise of acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. Oliver resisted the urge to shift his feet or otherwise reveal how much he wanted to fidget under the weight of his gaze.

Finally, Digg put him out of his misery. "You know I read up about your Miss Smoak. She's had a rough time."

Oliver nodded. "She has."

"So maybe she understands you better than most people. Better than all the people who have been banging away at your walls, trying to get you to let them in. When maybe what you need is someone who's waiting for you to open the door."

Swallowing, Oliver stood up and turned away from Diggle, knowing he was revealing how much impact Digg's words had. But he had to-he just couldn't show that much vulnerability to anyone.

_Anyone except Felicity_, his brain needled him.

"I should go," he said, picking up his jacket and pulling it on. "I'll just walk over to Jitters. You want me to bring you back anything?"

"No, I'm good," Digg said, his voice making it clear that he wasn't satisfied with Oliver ending this discussion but resigned to it. "Thanks."

He nodded and made for the stairs, resisting the urge to take them two at a time. Felicity had probably been waiting for him over an hour at this point and he didn't want her to think he was blowing her off.

That wasn't something friends did. And that was all he was willing to be: her friend. It would have to be enough.

XXX

Was there anything worse than staring at a computer screen, trying to write but feeling blocked? Maybe sitting in a coffee shop, surrounding by the best smells but without coffee to drink. Because getting coffee would be admitting that your standing coffee date wasn't going to make it.

Felicity wasn't ready to give up on Oliver yet.

Although it was ridiculous to feel like that. If Oliver arrived and found out how long she'd been waiting without getting coffee, he'd probably think something was wrong with her. Or wonder if her finances were even worse than she had already let slip. Or think that his presence was somehow as necessary as coffee.

Now this was getting just too ridiculous. She was ridiculous and undercaffeinated, but at least she could fix one of those problems.

Reaching into her purse, she was digging for her wallet when the table was bumped. Felicity looked up quickly, but she could feel her smile fade for a moment when she saw it was Sara, not Oliver.

"Expecting someone else?" Sara asked, smirking at her.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity smiled at Sara. "No, I'm just surprised. You've been so busy lately, I didn't expect to see you here."

"And you were expecting to see Ollie."

There was something . . . Something wasn't right. Felicity looked at her best friend, feeling her forehead wrinkle. There was a tone to Sara's voice that she had never heard before, something hard and bitter.

What was going on with her?

"I was just going to get some coffee-let me get you something and we can talk," Felicity said, starting to rise to her feet.

"I don't want anything," Sara said, folding her hands on top of the table. "Except for you to be honest."

What? Felicity frowned and sat down, closing her laptop and pushing it to the side along with her wallet. "What-what haven't I been honest about?"

"Your classes. You've been skipping them, Felicity, and it's making me worry. You've missed three in the last two weeks alone. I know I gave you a break on the cost, but your money is too tight for you to be wasting it like this." Sara looked at her, her blue eyes firm and resolute.

She had to look away as a wave of guilt washed over her . . . but with little buoys of anger and annoyance in there, too. Because yes, Sara had helped her out by giving her a discount. Felicity missing classes not only meant she was missing out on the opportunity to defend herself-it was a reflection on her friendship with Sara. And yes, Sara knew a lot about how close to the edge, financially speaking, Felicity was. But it wasn't like Sara wasn't equally cash-strapped, since neither of them were billionaires like Oliver-

Blinking, Felicity looked back at Sara. Could this be about something else? Someone else?

Sara had been so breezy when talking about Oliver. Like she was completely unaffected by him. But that couldn't be possible, because Oliver affected everyone. It wasn't something he tried to do most of the time-he just had crazy charisma and made everyone want his attention. Men, women, children, small animals: they were all drawn to him.

Had Sara changed her mind? Did she want to pick up things with Oliver and was bothered by Felicity being friends with him? It wasn't like Felicity was anything more than friends with Oliver . . . even if she had thought that maybe there might be more . . .

And it had been Sara who had told her to think of Oliver in that way! After her book signing, it had been Sara telling her about the heart eyes and making jokes about being in a romantic comedy. If Sara was now jealous of whatever Felicity had with Oliver, what had happened to change things?

Licking her lips, Felicity hoped her voice sounded steadier than it did to her ears. "Sara . . . is this really about the classes?"

The dimple in Sara's chin deepened, a sign she was clenching her jaw. "Of course it is. I don't like seeing you waste money. And you, of all people, should be taking self-defense seriously."

It was like a punch to her gut. Just like the one she got seven years ago. The breath rushed out of her lungs and her whole body tensed up. She was back in that alley, feeling blows rain down upon her. Which was horrible and painful and terrifying. But even worse than the physical pain had been her complete and utter confusion. _Why is this happening to me?_

Felicity could see the flicker of something in Sara's eyes and then her whole face melted. "Oh my God, Felicity-I didn't mean-I'm sorry-"

Managing, somehow, to hold a hand up, Felicity cut off Sara's words. "N-no. I don't believe you," Felicity said shakily. "I don't think this is j-just about the classes. So you should be honest with me, too, and tell me if this is about Oliver."

"It's not, I swear. You know I'm not interested in guys anymore and even if I was, I wouldn't go near Ollie. There's too much history there and-" Sara paused, then reached out and lightly rested her fingers on top of Felicity's hand. "And I wouldn't do that to you."

Physical contact was the last thing she needed right now. Even if it was Sara, someone that Felicity knew would never hurt her. She drew her hand back, wrapping her arms around her chest. "Please, just go."

"No, I'm not leaving you alone," Sara said, but Felicity just shook her head. She wished she could just get up and leave, but she wasn't sure if her legs were steady enough to support her, and she couldn't leave her things here.

"Just-just go to another table for a bit, please?" she asked, feeling weak and utterly defeated. Her arms fell away from her chest, her hands resting on the table. "I have to be alone."

Thankfully, Sara must have realized how on-edge she was. With a quick nod, she got up and moved out of sight, letting Felicity take a few long, deep breaths. She looked down at her hands spread wide on the tabletop, her fingernails painted a pale mint-green, and focused on her manicure. Silently repeating her mantra, she got herself under control. Felt the shivers receding and her breathing grow even.

It had been a long time since she had experienced a panic attack that bad. She felt like a wrung-out rag and all she wanted was her bed right now. It wouldn't be a good idea to wait for Oliver, not now.

Her hand had just moved towards her phone, her intention to text him, when it rang. And perhaps she was too tired to care, or her heart hoped that it was Oliver, but she answered it without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" she said, propping her head up with one hand.

"Is this Felicity Smoak?" a clipped male voice asked.

So, not Oliver. She held back a sigh, wondering what this was about. "Yes, this is Felicity."

"Ms. Smoak, I'm Ben Davis, Starling City _Tattler_, and we're planning an extensive look at Oliver Queen: his tragic loss at sea, his miraculous return, and his mysterious recovery. Part of the anniversary coverage, you know. You figure pretty heavily into his life now, so we were hoping to set up an interview with you."

"Wh-what?" That was all she could squeeze out, all her brain could come up with. Because . . . because a reporter from the most notorious gossip rag in town was calling _her_ to talk about Oliver?

She knew that there were occasional paparazzi pictures taken of her, usually only when she was with Oliver; she had seen camera flashes when they were sitting in Jitters. But it hadn't been like before, when the photographers had followed her around, and not just ones from the _Tattler_. But with keeping a lower social-media profile now and how she had been out of the public eye for so long, Felicity hadn't bothered to keep up the alerts on her name. For all she knew, there could be reams of articles about her-about her and Oliver-and she felt her breath coming faster again.

"No comment," she choked out before hanging up her phone quickly and sliding her fingers under her glasses to rub her eyes.

When she pulled her hand away, she blinked when she saw a to-go cup in front of her. Looking up, she saw Sara, a contrite expression on her face.

"Let me drive you home," Sara said softly.

Shaking her head, Felicity picked up the cup and took a long sip. "I . . . I want to wait for Oliver. He needs to know about the phone call I just got."

"Then let me wait with you-" Sara started to say, only for her eyes to flick to the door. And Felicity knew, without turning around, that Oliver had finally arrived.

End, Chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 7/?  
><strong>Author<strong>: dettiot  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T for now  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: In order to keep the story somewhat in sync with my outline, I'm choosing to bump up the length for this chapter. I don't know yet if all the future chapters will be this long (honestly, they probably won't be quite this long, because wow, I got wordy) but I hope you enjoy getting some extra content this week! :-)

If you like getting random, out-of-context sentences from upcoming chapters and other sneak peeks, take a look at my Tumblr! And remember, folks: reviews and comments are love.

XXX

Even with the memory of Digg's warning ringing in his ears-and his own silent reminder to himself-Oliver found his spirits rising as he entered Jitters. Without fail, seeing Felicity always made things a little bit better.

He paused slightly as he walked up to their normal table, because Sara was standing there, a concerned expression on her face as she looked down at Felicity. And when he could see Felicity's face, he understood why.

Because Felicity looked pale and shaky and on the verge of tears.

"Felicity?" he said softly, all but pushing Sara out of the way. "What is it?"

The smile she gave him was weak and trembling. Without thinking about it, he lightly rested the fingers of his right hand against her shoulder. She took a breath and her smile became steadier. "I'm fine, I'm okay."

Oliver glanced at Sara, feeling an awkward tension between the two women that he didn't understand. Sara's eyes flicked back and forth between him and Felicity as she spoke. "If you're sure, I'll go so you can talk to Ollie. But . . . but will you call me later?"

"I will," Felicity said, reaching out to lightly touch Sara's forearm. "I know you didn't mean it. And thank you for the coffee. It's really helping."

He could see Felicity's fingers tighten slightly around the paper cup she was holding, instead of the normal ceramic mug she would have gotten. Perhaps she had been planning to leave? Running his eyes over her again, Oliver could only guess at what might had happened to cause Felicity to look like this. Yet Sara's comment made him think that Felicity needed to talk to him. Had delayed leaving so she could do just that.

Was her current state due to whatever she needed to talk to him about? Or had he caused this? What had he done? Oliver wracked his brain, unable to come up with any answers. Perhaps it wasn't anything he had done-maybe it could be explained by the vibe between Sara and Felicity. Either way, he wanted to know what was going on. Wanted to make Felicity feel better.

"I'll give you a lift home, Felicity," Oliver said, sliding into the booth across from Felicity and nodding to Sara, wishing the booths at Jitters weren't so roomy since now he couldn't touch Felicity.

Sara looked uncertain but nodded slowly. "Okay . . ." She hesitated, then leaned down to quickly hug Felicity. "Talk to you soon," she said as she pulled back, and then Sara headed for the door.

Now that Sara was gone, Oliver let himself fully focus on Felicity. "You're okay? Really?"

Felicity nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "I just . . . do you ever have flashbacks?" She paused and then sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry. Of-of course you must have flashbacks. That was a stupid question and probably triggered a flashback-I'm so sorry, Oliver."

"No-hey, Felicity, it's all right," he said quickly, pushing aside the memories that her words had sparked. Wanting to find out how he could help her, wanting to support her right now. "Is that what happened to you?"

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the table. One hand rested against her neck, covering the scar under her ear. "Sara said something-we were fighting and then I was . . . I was back in the alley."

He swallowed at the pain in her voice. When he thought of Felicity, he thought of light and hope and courage. Seeing her like this, so sad and drawn, made him want to storm Iron Heights, find the man who had done this to her, and put an arrow in him. Several arrows.

"The thing I still don't understand is . . . why." Felicity slowly raised her eyes to him. "I still don't know why he did this to me-what he thought it would achieve." She searched his face and Oliver felt like he was holding his breath. "How far he was going to take it. I mean, he testified that he saw some cops walk past the alley so he stopped and ran, but-but if that hadn't happened, would he-was he-"

"Shhh," Oliver said, reaching out and taking Felicity's hand from around her coffee, and then after a moment, he gently pulled her other hand away from her neck. Clasping both of her hands between his, he gave her a level gaze. "You can't think like that, Felicity. Don't let him affect how far you've come."

In the back of his mind, he knew this was going well beyond the boundaries of friendship. Not when he felt a burning desire to make her pain go away. Not with how the feel of her soft skin against his calloused fingers made his whole body feel . . . different. Warmer.

Her lips parted, her breath escaping in a rush as her eyes widened. "Oliver."

And then she yanked her hands away, pushing herself back from him. "We can't be seen like this."

"W-what?" he asked, feeling totally thrown by her reaction. And by her words.

"I got a phone call, from a reporter at the _Tattler_, and apparently they're doing a big story on you and-and they wanted to set up an interview with me because I've been seen with you so apparently I'm important to you, and I just realized I've said apparently twice in one sentence and normally my vocabulary is much better, but I'm just-I need to go home." Felicity started fumbling with her laptop, pulling the power cable out of the outlet and trying to shove everything into her bag.

"Felicity, wait-I said I'd give you a ride. Let me just text Digg." Oliver pulled his phone out, using this as a way to deal with what she said. A reporter wanted to ask Felicity questions? As part of a bigger story about him? He didn't like the idea of Felicity being asked questions about him, didn't like having her pulled into this world. Because Felicity being interviewed like that would make more than just Digg take notice. So would his mother and his sister and Tommy. And so would his enemies.

She shook her head. "You don't have to do that-I'm fine with the bus."

God, why wouldn't she let him help her? Feeling frustrated, he took her chin in his hand and drew her eyes to his. "I am taking you home, Felicity. After we finish talking about this reporter and I know that you're okay."

With a jerk, she pulled her chin away from his fingers. "You can't tell me what to do, Oliver," she said angrily. But he could see a tremble in her fingers as she folded her arms over her chest. The move would normally be belligerent, but right now, on Felicity . . . it looked like she was trying to protect herself.

Running a hand over his hair, he took a deep breath. "I know-but I'm worried about you and . . ."

Oliver let his voice trail off, feeling unsure if he should finish that sentence. Unready to finish it. And a bit angry at himself, for getting himself into these situations that he wouldn't let himself see through. When he knew how important it was to keep Felicity at arm's length. And he needed to remember that his first priority was his mission to save Starling City.

For a long moment, Felicity didn't say anything. She just looked at him. Then she let out a small sigh and nodded. "Okay. Okay, you can take me home. I mean, you can drive me." Her fingers pushed up her glasses a little and she gave him a small smile, one with a hint of shyness to it.

Whether she agreed because she didn't want to argue with him, or she was too tired to face the bus, Oliver found that he didn't care. Because it meant more time with Felicity, and in spite of everything he told himself, all the warnings and reminders . . . he didn't want to leave her alone.

XXX

She should be exhausted. Her feet should be heavy, her body limp and clumsy. By all rights, her mind ought to be numb and sluggish.

There was certainly some of that. But more than that . . . she felt alive. Invigorated.

And it was all thanks to Oliver.

It was crazy. The last thing she had expected was Oliver stepping up like he had. Well, no-that wasn't true. He was her friend, after all-he had already proven that. But she hadn't been prepared for the extent to which he had reached out to her today. Because . . . it didn't feel like only friendship to her. Not with how gently he had touched her, not with how he kept his gaze locked on her . . .

Dropping her keys in the bowl by the front door, Felicity set her laptop down on her kitchen table and took a few deep breaths. Her mind was full of thoughts and ideas-and they weren't only about Oliver or her meeting with Mr. Diggle.

"_Felicity, this is John Diggle, my bodyguard. Digg, meet Felicity Smoak." _

_If she thought Oliver looked like a Greek god with his physique, Mr. Diggle was in a different class entirely. His arms were the size of small cars, Felicity thought a bit weakly as she shook his hand. Although he probably had to be this huge, if he was going to protect Oliver, who definitely looked like he could hold his own in a fight or keep clumsy damsels from face-planting on sidewalks. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Diggle." _

"_The pleasure's all mine, Miss Smoak," Mr. Diggle said, smiling at her politely as he shook her hand firmly. _

"_Oh, please, call me Felicity," she said quickly. "'Miss Smoak' always makes me feel like I'm in trouble." _

_Mr. Diggle's smile morphed into a grin and he looked at Oliver for a second before returning his gaze to her. "Then you'll have to call me Digg." _

"_I will," Felicity said. She looked at Oliver and did her best to smile. "I think we've got everything straightened out now?" _

_For a moment, she thought Oliver looked a bit nervous, with how his eyes were moving between her and Digg. But then he took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'll take care of everything. Let's get you home-you've got to be tired." _

"_I am, a little," she said, sliding out of the booth and lifting up her laptop bag, only to gasp softly when she realized Oliver was already out of the booth, standing in front of her, and holding her laptop bag. _

"_I'm not an invalid," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him. _

"_Let me feel like part of the modern age by carrying your laptop," Oliver replied with a wide grin and a quick wink. _

Felicity had laughed at Oliver joking about his ambivalence towards technology, even as she felt a flutter in her stomach at his flirty wink. But she knew Digg had noticed it, from the way he kept eyeing them through the rear view mirror on the drive home.

Not that Digg hadn't seemed very nice. In fact, Felicity liked him immediately. And she hoped they might get to know each other, at least a little. It would be handy to have someone like Digg available as a friend, especially if reporters became more of a problem.

She could tell Oliver was upset about the _Tattler_ revelation. More than she thought he would be-after all, he was Oliver Queen. He had been the subject of newspapers and magazines and TV programs for his whole life, really. But when he found out that the _Tattler_ wanted to talk to her, he told her that she didn't have to worry about it.

Which was very sweet of him, but Felicity wasn't sure how Oliver could keep the reporters from trying to find out more about her. Which was why one of the items on her to-do list was setting up the news alerts on her name-and on Oliver's for good measure.

But first . . . she was going to face facts. She had been hiding from the truth for weeks, keeping the status quo intact. But her flashback earlier today had made her realize that such behavior was surviving, not living. And ever since she had been attacked, her goal had been to live.

So she was going to do something she had never done before . . . and write a novel.

Pulling out her laptop, she sat down at the table and quickly booted it up. Of course she would finish working on the other book, currently and unfortunately titled _This or That_-but she was going to use her already-completed research and the memories she had been recalling to plan a work of fiction. Something that would reveal more of Felicity Smoak.

It wasn't until she had opened a new document that Felicity stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Because doing this-writing a novel, opening herself up like this? It was scary.

There was so much that she held inside herself. Even before the attack, she knew that she talked a lot but didn't say that much, at least not about her own personal history or feelings. It was how she kept herself safe, or so she thought. How she guarded her all-too-strong, so-easily-hurt heart.

But keeping up walls and babbling hadn't kept her from being hurt. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. When she was recovering and trying to stay positive while the SCPD looked for her attacker, Felicity had realized how few real friends she had. She had a huge network of acquaintances, both in real life and online, but friends? People who would stand by her, no matter what? People who dropped everything in order to help her?

Her mother. Captain Lance and Laurel. Eventually Sara. That was all.

Yes, there had been a few fans who had done a lot, by organizing fundraisers and posting messages on her Facebook page until she had shut it down. And there had been other people who had stepped in at various times. The love and encouragement online had been wide-spread . . . but also shallow. Other causes, other worries, made most people move on within a few weeks or months. Felicity didn't fault them: she had been on the other side and understood it.

Yet she wanted more. She needed more. More connections, more intimacy.

Donna's words from a few months ago drifted through her mind. About how proud she was at how Felicity opened up in the foreword to _Stray Wires_. And how she should do more of that: letting people in, revealing herself.

It might not be in the way her mother wanted, but this was how Felicity was going to start. By removing the barrier that her nonfiction writing needed and diving deep into her emotions. Letting herself feel and experience things that she had avoided. Crafting a set of characters and putting them into a story would let Felicity explore this desire for more.

Her fingers tapped against the keys as she began outlining. She started slowly, but soon the words were pouring out, in a stream-of-consciousness style she had never used before. Because she had never felt such a burning need to let it all out.

If she wasn't so focused, so determined, she might let the fear overtake her. So Felicity kept writing, kept going, ignoring as much as she could. Her stomach rumbled and she bolted a sandwich. She dashed to the bathroom when she couldn't wait any longer. Her hands cramped but she just rubbed one at a time against her thigh, massaging them as she typed one-handed. Her eyes grew dry and she grabbed a bottle of saline drops from the medicine cabinet so she could keep going.

Felicity kept going, even when a stray thought drifted through her mind but was quickly pushed aside in favor of working out a knotty plot problem.

_I wonder what Oliver would think of this_.

XXX

Starling City Times, November 26, 2013  
><strong>Sebastian Blood Announces Mayoral Candidacy<strong>

Starling magazine, December 2013  
><strong>At Home With Sebastian Blood, Candidate for Mayor<strong>

Starling City Tattler, December 3, 2013  
><strong>Letter from the Editors: Welcome Our New Owners<strong>

The _Tattler_ is pleased to announce that our little publication has attracted attention from on high: after years of living on the edge, financially speaking, your hometown paper has become part of the nationwide syndicate of publications owned by the Dearden Communication Group. Expect big changes in the coming months as we prepare for a bright new future!

Starling City Times, December 7, 2013  
><strong>Queen Consolidated Underwrites Toy Drive in the Glades<strong>

Eye on Starling blog, December 11, 2013  
><strong>Top Ten Proposal Spots<strong>

Looking to give your girlfriend a ring for Christmas? Why not do it at one of these romantic destinations?

2) _Table Salt_: When money is no object, Table Salt should be your venue. The matchless wine list, excellent cuisine, and luxurious surroundings will make for a proposal to remember.

Publishers Weekly, December 13, 2013  
><strong>Manuscript Sales<strong>

-In an early Christmas gift for Ex Astris, the beleaguered imprint of Penguin Random House, Oliver Queen has signed a contract for a new work of nonfiction. It's a surprising sign of loyalty from Queen, whose first book was published by Ex Astris nearly eight years ago. This new book is kept under lock and key, but has been described as a blending of wilderness survival strategies with introspective description. Could Queen be breaking the silence that's surrounded his five missing years? We'll have to wait until early summer 2014 to find out; Ex Astris is fast-tracking the publication of the sure-to-be bestseller.

Starling City Examiner, December 14, 2013  
><strong>Glades Gun Drive Announced<strong>

Oliver Queen and Sebastian Blood are joining forces again, this time on a gun drive to be held this Saturday in the Glades. It will be a merry Christmas for some families thanks to this latest charitable project from mayoral candidate Sebastian Blood, who is currently up ten points in the polls.

Any individual who turns in a gun-licensed or unlicensed-will receive a one hundred dollar voucher good for anything at Bonner & Teller. A limit of three guns per individual will be accepted.

"I am grateful to Oliver Queen and Queen Consolidated, one of Starling City's finest companies, for their generosity in underwriting the vouchers," Blood said. "It's a pleasure to work with Oliver again on such a worthy cause, particularly at this time of year."

XXX

Oliver took a slow sip from the paper cup of coffee he was holding, wishing that he could have stopped at Jitters instead of having to drink this sludge.

His lips twisted a little as he realized how much his thoughts sounded like something that Felicity would say. But it wasn't that surprising, since more and more lately, his thoughts kept turning to her.

A few days after that intimate conversation, she had sent him two texts.

_working on new project & finishing this or that at same time. replacing sleeping & bathing w/writing _

_can i owe you a few weeks of rain checks on coffee? I'll make it up to you. :-)_

Reading over the messages, Oliver had felt his heart sink. Not even imagining what kind of expression she would have on her face to convey the emoticon had taken away the sting. Because . . . she had probably figured out that Oliver Queen was too much work. Too much trouble. And even though he told himself it was better this way, he missed her.

Other than a text of congratulations when news about his book contract broke, he hadn't heard from Felicity in the last month and he hadn't contacted her. She clearly wanted space and he would give it to her. Besides, if she was working on two projects at once, the last thing she needed was him distracting her.

At least he knew the _Tattler_ wouldn't be bothering her, since he had bought the newspaper through a company that was one of his mother's holdings. Which had been an uncomfortable conversation, explaining that he wanted to buy Starling's biggest tabloid in an effort to protect Felicity-not that he told Moira that part. He had instead reminded Moira that the paper had been a thorn in the Queen family's side long enough and she had agreed. The fact that the _Tattler_ had also covered the Hood extensively was a bonus. Now Oliver could kill any stories that got too close to the truth, or let ones slip through in order to take the heat off himself.

Instead of their muckraking about his past and his five years away from Starling, the _Tattler_ would publish tomorrow an exclusive interview about his book. It was the first time he had talked about his new career and even now, he still felt slightly nervous about how much he had revealed. But it was necessary-more than necessary. There had been too many questions raised about what he was doing with himself, now that he wasn't the biggest playboy in Starling. And charity events, like today's gun drive, were few and far between.

Well, not really. The holidays were always busy with extra commitments and Oliver had agreed to more events than he normally would, in order to keep his mind off the anniversary of the Gambit's shipwreck. And . . . and other things, too.

There was a good crowd today, he thought idly as he took one last sip and tossed the half-full cup into a trash can. Several area residents were milling around, enjoying the free hot beverages and chatting before the official start of the gun drive. It was more of a community event, really, since Oliver had suggested having a Santa Claus available for families to take holiday pictures and volunteers manning a gift wrap station.

Blood had protested, saying it wouldn't look good to have gangbangers and families mingling. Oliver hadn't agreed.

"Don't you think it will make everyone more likely to be on their best behavior if there's kids around?" he had asked. "And think of the photos: members of the Glades, pulling together to save their community."

It was funny, how Blood fought against two warring instincts before reluctantly agreeing with Oliver. But the idea of the photo ops he could get must have swayed Blood, although his face looked like he had sucked on a bag full of lemons.

God, how did his thoughts keep sounding so much like what he imagined Felicity would say? He still felt like he barely knew her, yet . . .

Oliver drew up when he spotted his sister and Tommy in the crowd. Why were either of them here?

Moving through the clusters of people, nodding and accepting the handshakes offered him, it took him a few minutes to reach Thea. "Hey, Speedy," he said, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder before looking at Tommy. "Hi."

Tommy, leaning heavily on a set of crutches, gave a small nod. "Oliver."

"Can't you two kiss and make up already?" Thea asked, looking back and forth between them. "It's Christmas."

"What are you doing here, Thea?" Oliver asked, ignoring her question.

His sister sighed and lifted up a stack of flyers. "Verdant is running a gift market for local kids. They get to come and pick out presents for their parents or their siblings. We wanted to promote it here."

"That's a great idea," Oliver said, smiling at Thea. "There used to be something like that every year when I was a kid. It was a red-letter day for all of us-everyone under the age of twelve in Starling City seemed to come."

"It was Tommy's idea to bring it back," Thea said, shooting a fond look at Tommy.

Tommy met Oliver's eyes, his expression more open than it had been in a long time. "We used to go every year. Remember?"

"How can I forget?" Oliver asked, unable to hold back a small smile. "Half the time we ended up picking the same thing for each other. And then competing over who would get Thea the best gift."

He could tell that Tommy was trying not to smile. "Yeah."

"Is there anything I can do to help with the gift market?" Oliver asked Thea as he kept his eyes on Tommy.

"Wanna open your wallet so we can help even more kids?" Thea said, smirking.

"Of course, but I meant like helping out at the event."

Thea grinned and rested her hand on his arm. "We'd love to have you. Right, Tommy?"

Oliver couldn't help holding his breath, wondering how this less-angry, more-open Tommy would react. He wasn't sure what had caused Tommy to bend like this, appearing like he was ready to forgive Oliver, but it felt really good.

"It'd be good to have you there, Oliver," Tommy said after a moment. Oliver could see how his hands gripped his crutches, but he wasn't sure if it was from nerves or from pain.

He opened his mouth to ask Tommy how he was doing, but the other man quickly nodded towards the crowd. "Isn't that Sara Lance? I haven't seen her in a while-and the woman she's talking to looks really familiar."

What?

Turning quickly and looking in the direction Tommy had gestured in, Oliver saw Sara and standing next to her was-

His breath literally caught when he saw Felicity. She looked a bit pale, huddled in her purple coat, and even from here he could see the signs of too much hard work on her face. But God, she was pretty. No, beautiful.

"Yeah, she does look familiar," Thea said. "Ollie?"

"Huh?" He looked at his sister blankly, then realized what she had been asking. "Oh, it-it's Felicity Smoak."

"Wait, that hot nerd writer?" Tommy asked after a minute, at the same time Thea said, "The woman you keep having coffee with?"

Tommy and Thea looked at each other, and then they slowly turned their heads to eye Oliver.

"Why don't we go say hello?" Oliver said, taking off before either of them could say anything else.

He had only taken a handful of steps when gunshots rang out and people started screaming.

XXX

Pulling her coat closer around her, Felicity shot Sara a look. "You know, my apartment is nice and warm. And so is Jitters, plus it has coffee. Actual coffee, not this brown swill that sullies the good name of coffee."

Sara fiddled a little with the zipper on her leather jacket. "I know, but I haven't seen you except in class for two weeks-and I know you've been working really hard. I thought getting some fresh air, taking a walk . . . it'd be good for you."

Quickly, Felicity turned to face Sara. "No, you're right-it is good for me. I have been working a lot. And-and we haven't talked much, that's true."

Things had been awkward and tense between them ever since that day in Jitters. Felicity didn't know whether to describe it as an argument or just a really frustrating discussion. Whatever it was, it had created a rift between them. One that Felicity wanted to fix, but she wasn't sure how.

"Thank you for inviting me out here today. It's great to see everyone getting so excited for Christmas," Felicity said, keeping her voice light and not pointing out that Christmas wasn't her holiday.

"I love this time of year," Sara said, smiling a little. "Everyone seems nicer. And that's something in Starling City."

"Yeah," Felicity agreed, sliding her hands into her coat pockets as they walked around the small park that was the site of some kind of event. "What's going on here?"

Sara looked at Felicity for a long moment. "Don't get mad at me."

"That's not exactly a good opener, Sara . . ."

She shook her head. "No, I mean-I wanted to prove to you that you don't have to worry about me having feelings for Ollie."

Frowning, Felicity looked around the park, trying to figure out what this had to do with Oliver. On the surface, it looked like an event for Sebastian Blood, the alderman who was going to run for mayor, dressed up as something for the residents of the Glades. There was a Santa Claus taking pictures with families, a bored-looking volunteer in a gift wrapping booth, and a banner stretched between two spindly trees promoting . . . a gun drive?

_Well, that was a combination you didn't see every day_. Giving her head a shake, Felicity looked at Sara. "I don't get it."

Sara took a deep breath. "I ran into Thea Queen yesterday-I was talking to her about whether Verdant had any openings for a bartender, and she said that Ollie was co-sponsoring this event with Sebastian Blood. And I thought . . . well, if you haven't really seen me and you've been working so much, you probably haven't seen him, either. And maybe you have to see me and him together to realize that we're just friends."

Felicity opened her mouth, then closed it, not sure what to say. Feeling incredibly confused, in fact. Because honestly, she wasn't sure what would be enough to reassure her. She wasn't sure there was anything that would be enough to convince her that she and Oliver might . . .

Ever since that reporter had called her, asking for an interview with her, it was easier to just think of Oliver as a writing partner. An incredibly attractive, surprisingly sweet writing partner, but nothing more than that. Yes, he flirted with her, and sometimes she flirted back a little, but-but that didn't have to mean anything. It was better if it didn't mean anything.

Because it would be very, very, _very_ easy to let herself get lost in Oliver Queen. And that scared her to death. Guys like him didn't end up with girls like her. It was just . . . unthinkable.

So it wasn't necessary to see Sara and Oliver together. Sara hadn't needed to drag her out of her apartment and away from her work in order to set up some kind of cute flirty interaction with Oliver for her. Because the last thing she wanted was another reason to think about Oliver.

"It's nice of you to do all this, Sara, but-"

"Oh, look, there's Ollie," Sara said, interrupting her in a too-chipper voice. "Let's go say hi-and Tommy and Thea are here, too, and I haven't seen Tommy in forever. C'mon, Felicity."

Sara took her arm before Felicity could say anything more, tugging her towards the other side of the park. But suddenly, a quick succession of pops, making Felicity think of firecrackers, sliced through the air.

Then Felicity was on the ground, with Sara huddling beside her. And she realized that it wasn't a bunch of teens setting off some illegal fireworks . . . it was gunfire.

"Stay down!" Sara hissed in her ear.

"But-Oliver-" Felicity said, trying to lift her head, cursing herself for wanting-no, _needing_ to see him right now. To make sure he was okay. Which was making it harder and harder to lie to herself about him.

To Felicity's utter shock, Sara draped part of her upper body over Felicity's head and shoulders. "Keep your head down!" The command in Sara's voice compelled Felicity to stay down as she was told.

A whisper from Sara that sounded like "I've got her" drifted to Felicity's ears, along with the screams of the crowd and shouts from the police officers, those who had been waiting for the gun drive to start. Whoever was shooting seemed to be making some kind of speech, claiming to be the new mayor of Starling City.

But at this moment, she couldn't really focus on that.

Felicity didn't know what to think. Yes, Sara had plenty of martial arts training, but this-this was like what a bodyguard-like what Digg would do for Oliver if he was here. Was he here? Was Oliver, his sister, his friend-were they safe?

How did Sara know to do this? She couldn't let Sara do this-there was no way Felicity could let Sara risk getting hurt-she couldn't let Sara take a bullet for her!

The first stirrings of the shivers tingled over her skin, but Felicity tried her best to ignore it. "What-what are we gonna do?" she whispered to Sara.

Sara glanced down, her face close to Felicity's. "When I say go, get up and run. Get to your car. Don't stop, don't look back, don't wait for me. I'll be right behind you."

Swallowing, Felicity nodded and moved her arms a little, positioning her hands underneath her shoulders. She'd need to push hard in order to get up from the ground quickly. Idly, she was thankful that she had left her purse in the trunk of her car, choosing to tuck her keys, wallet and phone into her coat pockets.

"Go! Go go go!"

Shoving hard, Felicity got to her feet and took off. Her breath burned as she inhaled and exhaled and she pumped her arms as hard as she could. Her feet, in her nearly threadbare panda flats, complained at the way she was pounding the pavement, but Felicity ignored them. She ignored all of it and focused on getting to her car.

She was running so fast that she wasn't able to slow down enough to not slam into the side of her car. Fumbling in her pocket, she got out her keys and unlocked the car, yanking open the door and crouching down in the driver's seat. She gave herself a moment to feel all the fear and panic before she looked out the window, searching for Sara.

Where was she? Sara was definitely faster than Felicity, there was no way-

The passenger door opened and Felicity gasped, only to sigh in relief as Sara eased herself into the car. "Oh my God, I was so scared!"

"Sorry-I twisted my ankle right as I got up," Sara said, wincing a little.

"What?" Felicity yelped. "You should have told me to wait for you! I could have helped! Well, I could have dragged you along, but still!"

"No-I said I'd make sure you were safe," Sara snapped, looking at Felicity.

This was a crazy situation, Felicity acknowledged, but something about Sara's words stuck in her mind. "What? What are you talking about, Sara?" she asked, even as she shoved the key into the ignition.

Sara sighed and slumped back against the seat, her breaths coming fast and shallow. "I told Ollie I had you, so he could take care of Tommy and Thea. Because he looked like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place: knowing he had to take care of them, but also wanting to make sure you were safe."

A sob that she tried to choke back-but couldn't-escaped Felicity as she threw the car into gear. "We're gonna have to have a talk about how you seem to think Oliver is wildly in love with me, Sara."

"Your words, not mine," Sara said, her voice a bit slurred.

Felicity's head whipped around, fixing on her friend and feeling her heart pound at the sight of a bloody smear on her leather jacket. "Sara? _Sara_!"

XXX

The minute he heard the gunshots, Oliver was moving on instinct, dropping to the ground and assessing the situation. He was in an open, flat location with no cover. There were an unknown number of assailants firing guns. He was unarmed. And he was surrounded by people who had no idea who he really was-people that he had to protect. Thea, Tommy . . . Felicity.

Slightly behind him and to his left, Thea was crouching on the ground, helping Tommy get down on the ground even with her eyes wide from fear. To his right, Felicity was spread flat, with Sara beside her. Oliver glanced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. Feeling like he was being forced to choose.

Sara caught his eye and mouthed "I've got her," gesturing to Felicity. He frowned a little, noting how she was covering Felicity's head, clearly attempting to protect her from any random gunfire. Where had she learned to do that? It was the kind of move a cop would make-perhaps her father had taught her?

He didn't have time for this. There was no way the Hood could intervene in this situation; he'd have to hope the SCPD could handle it, and fortunately there were plenty of officers here. He could deal with this 'Mayor' later. Now, he needed to get Thea and Tommy away from this, since he knew Felicity was okay.

Nodding to Sara and giving one last lightning-fast look at Felicity, Oliver crawled over to Thea and Tommy. "C'mon, let's go," he said, lifting up Tommy's arm. "Thea, get his crutches-I'll carry him."

Thea, her eyes watery, nodded and reached for the crutches lying on the ground, but Tommy yanked his arm, trying to break free of Oliver's hold. "No!"

"Tommy, we don't have time for this!" Oliver said, his voice very close to the deep growl of the Hood's. He could tell Tommy noticed it, because his jaw set.

"I swear to God, Oliver Jonas Queen, if you try to carry me, I will fucking kill you-and everyone will find out what happened on that trip to Mexico, too."

With a soft curse, Oliver pulled Tommy's arm over his shoulder. "If you get shot, I'm totally gonna say 'I told you so'." He nodded to Thea. "Verdant. Stay in front of us and keep low."

"I'll let you," Tommy responded, his voice a bit strained as Oliver manhandled him up and basically half-hopped, half-strode with Oliver's help. They followed Thea, moving through the streets of the Glades. "And-and don't think I forgot about Felicity."

"This is what you wanna talk about now?" Oliver asked, looking around. "When we haven't talked in months?"

Tommy gestured towards Thea, the message unspoken yet clear: they couldn't talk about their real issues with her in earshot. Oliver nodded in understanding and tried to keep his voice even. "Maybe now you can forgive me, with saving your life and all?"

"Maybe. I was-already thinkin' about-calling you and telling you-my Christmas gift was my delightful presence."

Oliver couldn't hold back a small snort of laughter, feeling an incredible surge of relief. Because . . . because he had missed Tommy. A lot. And if he was willing to forgive him, Oliver was ready to let Tommy in. To finally answer some of the questions he knew Tommy had about his years on the island, about the choices he had made, about how he was trying to be better. It would be hard. But Oliver knew he needed Tommy's help-and he was going to make sure his friend knew that.

"Delightful? Is that the word you wanna use?" Oliver asked, feeling more confident as Verdant came into sight. "I'd use offputting, but for some reason, I still kind of like you."

"Awwww," Tommy said, grinning at Oliver even as the sweat rolled down his face. "How sweet. I kinda like you, too."

"C'mon," Oliver said, shifting Tommy's arm a bit higher around his shoulders. All the physical therapy had made a difference: Tommy's arms and shoulders were a lot more muscular than they used to be. But he had to be hurting with the pace Oliver was setting. "You've got this."

He groaned, but it didn't sound like it was from pain. "Is that your attempt at motivating me? You suck at it, Queen."

"It's 'cause I don't have a rack," Oliver agreed. The sound of Tommy's laughter was the best thing he had heard in a long time.

"You two are so gross. Like a married couple who don't have sex," Thea said as she yanked the door of Verdant open.

"He should be so lucky-to be married to me," Tommy said, panting softly. "Although-maybe he's got-a better candidate in mind?"

Thea smirked. "Oh, this is gonna be fun. Like old times."

Rolling his eyes, Oliver helped Tommy inside and immediately eased him onto the bouncer's stool that was just inside the door. "Now I wish you had stayed mad at me. It's not fair to have both of you ganging up on me."

"You missed it," Thea said, pulling her ringing phone out of her pocket. "It's Roy." She immediately answered it, walking away from them and talking quietly.

Now alone, Oliver looked at Tommy and pressed his lips together. Because it was one thing to put on an act for Thea, behaving like they always had together. But both of them were different now: they both knew so much more, they both had faced trials and come out the other side. Yet that didn't mean they could repair what was broken between them.

"Oh my God, what is with the brooding?"

Oliver blinked at Tommy. "What?"

"Are you taking post-grad work in how to be a dark, brooding hero after five years of study on that island? Because I think you've got it," Tommy said. He scrunched up his face and lowered his voice an octave. "Can we ever go back to what we used to have? Can you forgive me when I betrayed you?" He shook his head and let his voice return to normal. "Seriously, it's amazing that I want to be your friend again."

"You-you called me a hero." Maybe it was a strange thing to get stuck on, but as soon as Tommy had said that, Oliver had found himself totally fixated on that word. Because how had Tommy changed his mind like that? When he learned the truth, Tommy had called him a killer. Now he thought he was a hero?

Tommy shifted on the stool, looking a bit awkward. "I did. Because I noticed you stopped killing everyone, you know. It just took me a while to see it, because . . . because I was pissed as hell. At you, at my father, at losing my leg-all of it. It was easier to be mad at you and blame you for everything that went wrong."

Feeling the urge to fidget, Oliver rubbed his hands against his jeans. "What-" He coughed a little and cleared his throat. "What changed?"

"A lot of therapy," Tommy said matter-of-factly. "Not just the physical kind. I didn't go into details about you, but working through my issues about my dad, about what happened to me . . . it put things in a different light."

"Yeah?" Oliver asked, taking a moment to really look at Tommy. There were a few lines on his face that hadn't been there a year and a half ago. But there was also a kind of calmness. He'd seen glimpses of it earlier this year, as Tommy seemed to come into his own running the club. But now, it was like he had gotten it figured out.

It was inspiring. And really good to see.

Tommy nodded. "Yeah." He held his hand out towards him. "There's a lot we gotta talk about, Oliver, but . . . but I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Oliver told himself to play this cool. To be sincere and serious about how much Tommy's forgiveness meant. But he knew he was smiling widely as he bypassed Tommy's hand to hug him. "I'm sorry, too," he said quietly before patting his back and pulling away.

His friend nodded, a grin appearing on his face. "Now, you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you and Felicity."

"Nope," Oliver said, returning Tommy's grin. "I'm gonna get Thea home and check in with Digg."

Groaning, Tommy picked up the crutches that Thea had left by his side. "This isn't over, Ollie. I may not know all your secrets, but the ones I do know are really embarrassing. And it can't be that hard to find the phone number of one Felicity Smoak."

He couldn't say he was too excited about the idea of talking about Felicity with Tommy-but Oliver knew that Tommy would definitely make good on his threat. And besides . . . another opinion on what he was doing with Felicity wouldn't hurt. Not that he was really doing anything-that was the whole idea.

And apparently, his brain was still in Felicity-mode.

"We will, I promise," Oliver said.

Tommy looked him over, then nodded. "Okay, then I'll talk to you later."

With a surprising amount of ease, Tommy moved over towards the bar. Oliver watched him go, feeling a wealth of emotions. But greatest of all was hope.

Because things were looking up.

XXX

Sometimes it sucked, being well aware of your flaws. Felicity sometimes wished she could be one of those people who were blissfully unaware of their bad qualities-or that she had the ability to not worry about them so much.

But that wasn't who she was. So knowing she was hiding from her issues by burying herself in work was a hard pill to swallow. Because her writing was so important to her. And everything on that front was _working_ right now. The novel was coming along better than she had ever expected, and it had the unplanned benefit of making her more eager to work on _This or That_, too.

Refilling her mug with coffee, Felicity ran a hand through her hair and winced as her fingers caught on yet another tangle. She really needed to shower: the last time she had done so had been three days ago when Sara had dragged her out of the apartment and-

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm and prevent a flashback. _Everything is okay_, she reminded herself. _Sara's fine, Oliver's fine, you're fine. You're strong and you're free and you're safe_.

The mantra worked, letting her slowly open her eyes. It had been three days and she hadn't let herself deal with what had happened. Other than making sure that Sara was okay.

Sara had twisted her ankle, like she told Felicity-but she had also been grazed by a bullet. She had argued that she was fine, but Felicity had refused to listen and taken Sara straight to the hospital. And that was when she got the bigger shock: the doctor who treated her friend asked Felicity if she knew about Sara's bruised ribs and recently-dislocated shoulder.

It had been all Felicity could do not to cry. The idea that Sara was hurting like that already, yet hadn't hesitated to drop and protect her during the shooting . . . it made total sense, with the kind of person that Sara was, but Felicity didn't understand why Sara felt the need to protect her like that. And more than that, she felt guilty. Guilty for letting a stupid argument get in the way of their friendship. Because clearly Sara hadn't felt like she could talk to Felicity about this. And she didn't want to be that kind of friend.

Felicity wrapped her hands around her mug and sipped her coffee slowly, working to come up with some kind of plan. Because she wanted to talk to Sara about this, but she needed advice for how to do that. And Sara wasn't the only person she needed to talk to.

It hadn't escaped her attention that Oliver hadn't contacted her at all in the last month. With her writing, it had been easy to not think about it, but that wasn't to say she hadn't been conscious of how silent her phone had been. Not that Oliver had been one to blow up her phone or anything, but he had certainly sent her occasional texts and even called a few times. But ever since she had said she couldn't take the time for coffee with him, it had been radio silence.

Now she wished they had gotten a chance to talk at the event, like Sara had wanted. Maybe seeing each other in person would make it easier to get past this awkwardness.

Rolling her shoulders a little, Felicity set her empty mug in the sink and walked over to her laptop, saving what she had been working on. She was in good shape with both books. She should call Laurel to give her an update, as well as letting her know about the novel-a fact she had been holding off on revealing to her agent. And Felicity could kill two birds with one phone call, by asking Laurel about Sara. Perhaps Sara had let something slip in the emails she exchanged with her sister.

And after she called Laurel, she would call Oliver. But first, a shower and some clothes that weren't pajamas. If she was feeling particularly crazy and/or nervous, she might even eat something, too.

Once she had showered, changed into a pair of jeans and a bright pink sweater, and eaten a bowl of only-slightly-stale cereal, Felicity knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She picked up her phone and hit the contact for Laurel.

In brisk tones, Laurel answered and Felicity took a deep breath. "Hi, Laurel, it's Felicity. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure. What's going on?" Laurel asked distractedly.

She would cut right to the change, Felicity thought with slight amusement. "Well . . . it's both professional and personal. What do you want to talk about first?"

"Hmm," Laurel said, sounding more focused. Less like she was juggling a couple of different tasks and was instead giving Felicity her full attention. "I guess the professional. Which means the book?"

"Yeah," Felicity said, walking over to the table and sitting down. "It's good news. At least, I think it is, but I suppose it's all relative, since I'm about to make your life a lot harder and I don't really want to do that and-"

"Felicity! What is it?"

Should she ease into this or just blurt- "I'm still working on _This or That_, and we have _got_ to come up with a better title for it, by the way, but-but I'm also writing a novel."

There was a long silence, and then Laurel did something unexpected. "Woo-hoo!"

Felicity pulled the phone away from her ear, due to the volume of Laurel's voice-and the complete lunacy of her serious, straight-laced agent going 'woo-hoo!' "Laurel?" she asked, feeling confused.

"_Finally_. I've been waiting for you to realize you should be writing fiction forever." Laurel's voice sounded very amused. "Especially when _This or That_ has been like pulling teeth for you. I could tell, you know-there's something that doesn't fully click with it. Not that it isn't good-it is. But it doesn't have the same spark as your previous books."

"Why didn't you ever say anything to me about this?" Felicity asked, slumping down in her chair. "You just let me wander around all this time!"

"You had to learn that for yourself. Just like Dorothy in _The Wizard of Oz_," Laurel said, referencing her favorite movie. "I knew it would sink in for you someday . . . although I was going to start hinting about trying something else once you finished _This or That_."

Gazing at her laptop, Felicity couldn't help sighing. Whether it was from relief or frustration or uncertainty, she didn't know. "So . . . so you want to see what I'm working on?"

"Of course," Laurel said. "I'm sure it's great, Felicity. Don't tell me anything about it-I want to be surprised."

"Then how do you know it'll be great?"

"I know you," Laurel said simply. "It'll be great."

Ducking her head even though Laurel wasn't there, Felicity couldn't help smiling. "Thanks, Laurel."

"You're welcome. Send me whatever you've got and I'll take a look."

"I will-" A beeping from her phone made Felicity look at the screen. Her heart plummeted into her stomach when she saw the caller ID: _Oliver Queen_.

"Hey, Laurel? I've got another call-can I call you later?"

Laurel agreed and Felicity quickly hit accept, only then realizing that she had no idea why Oliver might be calling her or what she should say to him. "H-hello?"

"Hey," Oliver said, his warm voice sending shivers over her skin-shivers of an entirely different kind from her panic attacks.

"Oliver," she said, feeling her breath rush out of her. "Hi. It's good to hear from you."

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work-"

It was all she could do not to shriek out 'no, don't hang up!' Somehow, she managed to gently interrupt him. "No, no, you're not interrupting at all. Besides, I . . . I want to know how you're doing, stranger."

She thought she heard his breath catch, but it must be her imagination. "Actually . . . I was wondering if you might be free for lunch today? I was hoping-I was hoping you might want to help me celebrate my book sale?"

Did he . . . was he _nervous_? In her wildest dreams, she didn't think Oliver ever got nervous. Honestly, it was adorable.

"I'd love to," she said quickly. "Because it's definitely something to celebrate, Oliver. I'm so proud of you." She bit her lip, blushing a little at how silly she must sound.

But Oliver didn't seem to mind. "Thank you, Felicity," he said, his voice all low and breathy and full of emotion.

"You're welcome," she said, gripping the phone tightly. "Um, where and when?"

"Do you know Table Salt? I booked a table for one o'clock . . ."

The fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Starling City? Felicity blinked. "Yes, I know it. Not as if I've actually been there-I haven't-but I know of it. It-it sounds like a great place to celebrate."

Like engagements. Because wasn't Table Salt just named one of the ten best places in Starling to pop the question? And that was the _last_ thing she needed in her mind right now.

"It is," Oliver said. "Can I meet you there? I have some work to do-Isabel's waiting for me to finish a round of revisions."

"Yes-of course," Felicity said quickly. "I'll meet you there at one." She paused and closed her eyes. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too," Oliver replied, his voice quiet. "Bye, Felicity."

Before she could say the same, he hung up and left Felicity staring at her phone. When it sunk in that she only had two and a half hours, she dashed to her closet, looking for something that she could wear and giving many thanks that she had already showered.

End, Chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 8/?  
><strong>Author<strong>: dettiot  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T for now  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: So many of you were excited about the lunch date-but there's a moment near the end of this chapter that I'm super-excited for y'all to see, too. So without any further delay, enjoy!

XXX

Starling City Tattler, December 16, 2013  
><strong>Exclusive: Oliver Queen Reveals His Secret<strong>

"It's not what's expected of me." It's practically the first words out of Oliver Queen's mouth when asked about his decision to write a book. Of course, we all remember Oliver's first book, _The Frat Boy Way: Life and Women According to the World's Most Successful Frat Boy's Twitter Account_. Oliver remembers it, too, with mixed emotions.

"Honestly, I kind of fell into writing that book, because of the Twitter account that [best friend] Tommy [Merlyn] set up," Oliver says. "This new book is a much better reflection of me."

And just who is this Oliver Queen? The Starling City _Tattler_ sat down with Oliver for an exclusive, in-depth interview at his family's luxurious mansion.

Starling City Times, December 18, 2013  
><strong>Criminal Known as 'The Mayor' Captured Thanks to the Hood<strong>

Starling City Examiner, December 19, 2013  
><strong>Female Vigilante Sightings Increase; Is The Hood To Blame?<strong>

XXX

One of the benefits to being Oliver Queen was being seated immediately at any restaurant. Which meant he could wait for Felicity at their table, hiding his nervousness, instead of pacing in the lobby.

His fingers rubbed against his thumb before he checked the time on his phone. It was a quarter to one, so Felicity wouldn't be here for a while. He had left the Foundry early when Digg had admitted they had hit a wall in their search for the identity of the blonde vigilante. And his plans to kill time with Tommy hadn't panned out, between Tommy dealing with a delivery and throwing questions about Felicity towards him.

There was only so long that he could keep holding off Tommy. At some point, sometime very soon, he'd have to answer Tommy's questions. Which meant he had to come up with the answers in the first place.

When his phone vibrated against his hand, Oliver quickly looked at the screen. His body relaxed as he saw it wasn't a text from Felicity, but a phone call from Isabel.

"Hello, Isabel," he said. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"Yes, well, I wasn't expecting Ex Astris to all but declare bankruptcy today," Isabel said tartly.

"What?" Oliver asked, turning in his chair a little and keeping his voice low.

Isabel huffed. "Martha Ellis is going to be fired within the week, and word is that she's going to take half the imprint with her. Given their lack of success lately, it's no great loss for her to go, but Penguin Random House might decide it's time to cut bait and close the imprint. And they don't have to honor any of the contracts that Ex Astris signed."

"You're kidding," Oliver said, feeling a stab of worry.

"In this case, there's no legal requirement for the parent company to honor a contract made by one of its independently-operating subsidiaries, thanks to subsection 12, paragraph (a) in your contract. I knew I should have pushed harder to get that clause taken out," Isabel said. "They might still agree to publish your book, given that you're you and a publicity goldmine, even if they think the book sucks, but I wanted to tip you off that we might need to start over."

Leaning back in his chair, he tried to keep his voice neutral and not sound disappointed. "Right," Oliver said slowly. "Thank you. Keep me posted."

"I will," Isabel said, hanging up without saying goodbye, as was her habit. Social niceties weren't one of her strong suits-coupled with her attitude, Oliver had sometimes wondered if she was really the best agent for him. But that question would have to wait for now.

Oliver slid his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, his mind mulling over this new development. If Ex Astris did close, he was sure his mother would use it as a sign his "dabbling" should end and he should go to work at Queen Consolidated. But that wasn't what he wanted. He should have told Isabel that of course they would try again and she should see who else might want to publish-

Suddenly, a much more disturbing thought entered his mind: he wasn't the only person who would be affected by this. Felicity would be, too. And she would be affected a lot more than he would.

Should he tell her? It would certainly wreck the mood he was hoping this lunch would have. And more than that, it would add another worry to her shoulders. Oliver could tell that Felicity was just barely getting by, financially speaking: in her references to shopping at Goodwill and dying her own hair, with how she would skimp on her coffee but still pay a normal tip at Jitters, and by how beat-up her computer looked even though she loved technology. If Ex Astris went under, she might be forced to make choices she didn't want to make. Choices she shouldn't have to make.

That was the last thing he wanted for Felicity.

Isabel had said the news would come out soon . . . there couldn't be that much harm in not telling Felicity about Ex Astris. And it might buy him enough time to figure out a way he could help her-a way she would let him help her. Felicity was stubborn and fair-minded. If he paid for her coffee, she made sure to buy his the next day. So he knew she wouldn't accept money from him.

But what could he do? He was so caught up in wondering that it took him a moment to realize the maitre d' was leading Felicity towards the table. And when he saw her, he felt his stomach tighten.

Her hands were clasped together in front of her, looking a bit shy and a bit nervous. In her bright pink sweater and navy pencil skirt, she stood out in the room full of women in black dresses. Her hair wasn't back in its normal ponytail, but loose and wavy around her shoulders. It was more casual, less polished than her hair normally was, and he liked it.

Standing up, Oliver couldn't help smiling at her as he lightly took her elbow to help her into her seat. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, smiling back at him before pushing up her glasses. "I'm a little late-"

"No, you're perfectly on time." He noticed her cheeks go pink at his words and he could feel his smile get wider as he took his seat. "It's great to see you."

Her eyes lowered. "I feel horrible."

"What?" he asked, feeling his breath catch.

She hesitated, then slowly lifted her eyes back to his. "It makes me feel like an awful friend, how I went 'I'm too busy for you!' and completely bailed on our coffee routine."

"Hey," he said, reaching out to touch her hand. He really wanted to wrap his fingers around hers, but he held back. "Hey, you didn't bail on me. It's okay."

"Really?" she asked, her voice so hopeful that it made him think this was something that was really bothering her. "Because people have done that to me and I-" She checked herself, pressing her lips together, and Oliver realized she had said more than she meant to say . . . while for the first time revealing something deeply personal about herself to him.

Felicity had been left by people she cared about.

"I understood, Felicity," he said, giving in and taking her hand. "You told me what was going on, I knew how to reach you. But I know how important your work is to you. I wanted you to be able to work without interruptions, so I left you alone."

From the intensity of her gaze, he felt like Felicity was trying to read his mind, trying to make sure he wasn't holding back on her. Even though it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, he let her look straight into his eyes so she could discover whatever she was looking for there. After a moment, she sighed in relief and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Oliver."

How did she make holding hands seem so . . . intimate? Oliver forced himself to draw his hand away and picked up his menu. "You're welcome. Although you know you're going to have to tell me something about what's kept you so busy for the last month. A text was enough at the start, but now . . . I think I deserve more than a hundred and forty characters of explanation."

The smile that flashed across her face was mischievous and adorable and he hadn't realized how much he had missed her until this moment. "Sure. Since a text can be up to a hundred and sixty characters, that's how much you'll get."

Oliver grinned at her. "I walked right into that one, huh?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Yep."

"Wait, then why is Twitter a hundred and forty if a text is one-sixty?" he asked, leaning forward and prompting a quiet giggle from Felicity.

Yeah, this was what he wanted. Making Felicity laugh.

XXX

Table Salt's reputation was well-deserved, Felicity thought as she leaned back in her chair. The food had been amazing and the glass of wine Oliver had insisted she have with lunch-claiming it wasn't a celebration otherwise-had been perfection.

But honestly, the company was what made lunch so good. Because she could have had just as good of a meal at Big Belly Burger, if Oliver had been there with her. Not that Big Belly served wine, but the fact remained that it was Oliver who made this so . . . so _good_.

Their conversation had covered a range of topics, to her surprise. She had thought they'd be mostly talking about the same things they did when they got coffee: writing, pop culture, things like that. And while they did talk a little bit about his contract, Oliver seemed to steer the conversation away from work, especially after she had spent five minutes talking about how excited she was for him and how hopeful she was for his success. Instead, they spent the bulk of their time talking about Oliver making up from some fight with his best friend, Tommy, questions about Hanukkah vs. Christmas, and even a discussion about the hooded vigilante, of all things.

"I don't know what to think about him-I'm assuming it's a he, even though it could be a woman," Felicity admitted. "Because how do we know that he's doing this for the right reasons? But then, look at the crime rate in the Glades. Whoever he is, he's making a difference and it seems to be for the better." She paused to sip her coffee, then wrinkled her nose.

"What?" Oliver asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"It's just-can't he come up with a better name? The Hood? No wonder people mistrust him."

Oliver laughed quietly-God, he looked so handsome when he laughed. "Really? That's what bothering you?"

"Hey, names-names and words-are important," Felicity said, smiling at him. "We both know that."

"Yeah, we do," he said, his blue eyes especially piercing. A silence fell between them, one that had a certain kind of . . . tension wasn't the right word. Or electricity, either. She couldn't come up with a word that came close to describing how this felt. It made her feel like she was using every cell of her brain-that in fact, she was aware of every cell in her body, and that their purpose was to make her be here for this moment.

"I'm writing a novel," she said, unable to look away from him. "That's what the other project is. A novel."

The waiter, asking if they wanted more coffee and then the business of refilling cups and adding sugar and cream, broke the spell between them and prevented Oliver from replying right away-which gave Felicity time to get nervous. Because this was so different for her, so new. Only Laurel and now Oliver knew she was writing a novel and what if they told her it was a bad idea? What if Laurel thought it sucked? What if Oliver . . . well, she couldn't come up with an objection for him to make, but what if he did have one?

The self-doubt was just so scary. When it came to her previous books, there had been nerves, yes, but nothing like this. Because this novel had more of Felicity Smoak in it than anything else did, and she felt so much more protective of it as a result. It really was like her baby.

"So, a novel?" Oliver's voice was soft and warm, his attention fully fixed on her.

She nodded, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. "Yeah. Working on _This or That_, I had all these memories come back to me and it made me think there could be a story there."

"Tell me about it?" he asked.

It was so tempting to give in. To start telling him every little detail about the book, about how it was making her open herself up, how it revealed just who she was. But . . . but something made her hold back. Maybe it was an instinct for self-preservation. That ever-needed reminder that she couldn't let herself be swallowed up by him.

Or maybe it was something more shallow, more selfish, guiding her. She wasn't proud of it, but she couldn't help noticing how he wasn't telling her anything about his own book. How he never talked about what he was writing. At this point, it was more likely she'd find out more about his new book from the blogosphere than from Oliver. And it was small and petty of her to feel that way, she knew. Because it wasn't like she was an open book-no pun intended.

For whatever reason, she just didn't feel ready to tell him. Because-because-God, she didn't know. She was just scared. And she hated being scared. Especially with Oliver. It just felt weird to be scared around him, when she trusted him with so much.

"I know this is gonna sound strange, but . . . but I'm not ready to talk about it yet," she said eventually, looking at him. "It's still so new-it's like my baby. Well, every book is my baby, but this one is-it's like a preemie and needs extra care and attention in order to get strong, and it feels like if I talk too much about it, things will go wrong."

Felicity thought she saw a flicker of something in Oliver's eyes. Something that might be disappointment, which nearly made her change her mind. But it went so fast that she didn't have the time to be sure.

"I only told Laurel today about it-so you were the first person to know I was even working on something new," she said quickly, feeling the need to reassure him.

"No, no, it's okay," he said, folding his arms on top of the table and leaning on them a little, moving into her space. "I understand. No one but Isabel has seen any of what I've written recently. Because it's so hard to talk about with people, to make it into something that's not-to talk about a book you've written like you're talking about the weather. And sending the book to her . . . it was the worst feeling."

"It is the worst!" Felicity said, latching onto this change in topic, wanting to make this more like one of their normal conversations. "Every time I send chapters to Laurel, I'm constantly thinking, in the back of my mind, about when I'm going to hear back from her, trying to prepare myself if she hates it . . ." She smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders. "I get a little paranoid."

Oliver gazed at her for a long moment-long enough for that crackling, unquantifiable, undefinable feeling to come back. "I wouldn't call it being paranoid. And you should know . . . whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm here."

There was a note in his voice, coupled with the look in his eyes, that made Felicity wonder if he was talking about more than just her book. If maybe he was trying to say more, without actually saying it-without committing himself to the words.

It was amazing, how expressive his eyes and his face could be. When she had first encountered him last year, when he had recently returned from the island, most of the time he kept up a mask. A bland expression and a practiced smile, a facade that was occasionally broken by some real emotion. But ever since they had started spending time together, she had seen less and less of that "Oliver Queen" mask. Now, she had Oliver, who was gently self-deprecating, a good listener, someone who cared deeply about the people in his life. At this moment, she sensed that she was included in that small, exclusive circle of people . . . and she might even have a special place in that circle.

Or maybe she was just imagining it, because she wanted there to be more. Wanted to put an end to this limbo they were in. Because while she always said that Oliver and her were friends, it wasn't true. There was something there. Something more. She didn't need Sara's teasing or Mr. Diggle's curious gaze to tell her that. She could feel it.

She didn't think she was the only one who felt it, either. But Oliver was clearly not ready to put anything into words.

And right now . . . neither was she.

XXX

The last person he expected to see as he slowly walked into the Foundry was his best friend.

"Tommy?" Oliver asked, drawing up short and feeling strangely exposed. "What-what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Tommy said, leaning back in the office chair in front of the computer table. "Diggle let me in."

Oliver cut his eyes towards his bodyguard. "Why not?" Digg asked with a shrug.

"Also, I bribed him," Tommy said. "He shares your weakness for really old Scotch." He held up a bottle of forty-year-old Laphroaig and Oliver couldn't help a small grin.

"Is this one of the bottles from the case I had in my office?" Oliver asked, setting his bow down and taking the bottle from Tommy, along with the glass he offered.

"It might be the only bottle left," Tommy said quietly.

Pausing with the glass halfway to his lips, Oliver looked curiously at Tommy. "There were at least four bottles in the case, I thought."

"Yeah, well, three of them might have gotten broken."

The dark tone and sense of utter finality in Tommy's voice made Oliver know he couldn't ask him about it. Not yet, at least. Instead, he held his glass up. "A toast?"

Tommy held up his glass, his eyes on Oliver. "And what are we gonna toast?"

Holding his gaze, Oliver spoke firmly. "прочность. Strength."

With a slow nod, Tommy clinked his glass against Oliver's before tossing back the last of his Scotch.

"I'll drink to that," Digg said, finishing his glass. "You're favoring your right knee again."

"Yeah . . . I had a run-in with my blonde problem," Oliver said, taking a quick sip and then easing himself over to the med table. He knew Digg would want to take a look and right now, he wasn't up for arguing.

"Felicity?" Digg asked, his voice sounding surprised.

Oliver looked up at Digg in confusion. "What? No. The female vigilante."

Digg pressed his lips together and nodded, looking a bit flustered, before he bent down to start checking on Oliver's knee.

To distract himself from what Digg was doing, Oliver gritted his teeth a little. "She's got a little training, although there's some holes in her attacks. Maybe an amateur trained her? And some kind of sonic device-something that could break glass."

"That's not mentioned in any of the police reports," Digg said slowly. "Probably keeping it out to prevent copycats."

Rather than show how Digg's not-so-gentle probing was affecting him, Oliver just nodded. After a moment, Tommy broke the silence.

"Isn't it interesting that your partner in this whole . . . whatever-you-call-it, immediately thought of Felicity when you mentioned a blonde problem?"

"You're acting like a girl talking to her best friend during first period study hall, Tommy," Oliver shot back, grimacing as Digg prodded his knee. He picked up his glass and took a bigger sip, then sighed. "Okay. We might as well do this now." He gave Tommy a 'go ahead' gesture.

Tommy's grin was wide and nearly a smirk. "Okay. So . . . Felicity Smoak. The woman who, seven years ago, you clearly had a crush on."

"I did not have a crush," Oliver immediately retorted. "I was just-I wasn't expecting her. To be . . . like she was. Is."

"Fine, you didn't have a crush on her. But you actually treated her like you were interested in her for reasons other than you normally had when it came to a hot woman. Fast-forward to now, when she's blonde and still hot, and you have a standing three-day-a-week coffee date and take her out to lunch at Table Salt." Tommy eyed him and Oliver set his jaw.

"How did you know all that?" Before Tommy could speak, Oliver came up with the answer. "Thea."

Tommy nodded, adding a splash more of Scotch to his glass. "She's very curious about her. And a curious Thea is a very, very dangerous Thea."

He should have known. He'd been worrying about Tommy all this time, when it was Thea he should have been worrying about. Because Thea was crafty enough to sic Tommy on him, and Tommy would be glad to report back to Thea, so she could deliver the killing blow.

"Your sister actually asked me last week if I knew why you've been so grumpy lately," Digg said, standing up. "You're going to want some of those island herbs. And maybe stay off the knee for a night or two."

"Not happening," Oliver said, slowly rising to his feet and heading to the area where he kept his box of island supplies. "I got lucky tonight, crossing paths with that woman. I need to be out there so I can track her."

"Where'd you find her tonight?"

Oliver looked over at Tommy. "Over near CNRI," he said slowly, not understanding where he was going with this.

"You could put up surveillance cameras," Tommy suggested. At Oliver's surprised look, he shrugged. "I did it here, last spring after . . . after you sold me your shares in Verdant. I needed a way to cover more of the club than I could do on my feet. Now that I've only got one, it's even more important."

As always, Oliver felt a stab of guilt at the reminder of Tommy's injury. Tommy gave him a look that said he knew what Oliver was thinking-which was probably true, between their years of friendship and seeing that guilty look on other people's faces. "It's pretty simple to setup and monitor the cameras. I could help."

"No. Absolutely not," Oliver said, turning around quickly to face Tommy, unable to hold back a wince at how his knee felt underneath him.

"Why, 'cause I'm a cripple?" Tommy said, pushing himself up from the chair and glaring at him.

"Because I don't want you involved in this! Not when I just got you back!"

His voice rang out through the Foundry, wavering slightly. Oliver took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face.

"It's a good idea," Digg said quietly. "It'd let you rest while still keeping an eye out for that woman."

"Digg-" Oliver began, before Tommy interrupted him.

"I can do this, Oliver. I've always been better with tech than you have, and . . . and I think it's time I learned something about how my best friend is trying to save this God-forsaken city. And I have my own reasons for wanting to help." Tommy's stance was defiant, but his voice was slightly hesitant. "You're not a killer anymore. So what are you, Oliver? I want to know."

It was all too much. The pressure from his mother. His worries about Thea and the boyfriend that Oliver still hadn't met. The guilt over letting Diggle down in the hunt for Deadshot. All the questions about just what Felicity was to him. The insecurity about his writing and wondering what would happen if Ex Astris went under. His failure to find out just who the blonde vigilante was. And now Tommy's challenge.

His carefully separate worlds were colliding. They were getting merged, forcing him to muddy the Hood's careful boundaries with Oliver Queen's messy emotions. And so far, he'd had no luck using the logic and precision he exercised as the Hood into his life as Oliver. But if he didn't get this under control, he'd lose it all. He could already sense things slipping between his fingers-things he had found a way to accept losing, like his mother's respect, even if it was incredibly painful. But what if he lost an actual person?

A firm hand on his shoulder yanked him out of his head, making him blink at Diggle.

"A buddy of mine in Afghanistan, he really liked that show _Firefly_. Was crazy about it-made everyone in the unit watch it."

If Tommy's expression was anything to judge by, both of them were giving Diggle 'what the fuck?' looks right now. Digg grinned before growing serious again. "There was a line that stuck with me. Something I always felt but didn't have the words to express, at least not in a PG-for-civilians way. 'When you can't run, you crawl. And if you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you'."

Oliver took a deep breath. He knew what Digg was saying. But it was so damn hard. It was one thing with Digg-at least Oliver knew he could take care of himself, had proven that he had the skills to temporarily step in if Oliver went down. But Tommy couldn't do that. He needed to be protected. And if Tommy got hurt or injured helping him . . .

"Lucky for you guys, I'm damn good at crawling," Tommy quipped.

Digg let out a soft chuckle. "And even though our boy here is solid muscle, I've carried him a time or two." He turned his eyes on Oliver. "So what do you say? Gonna give me a break and let Tommy deal with you?"

The gentle needling wasn't what he expected. Oliver looked back and forth between the two of them: the partner and the friend, two completely unlikely individuals united in their desire to help him. He didn't understand it. Didn't understand why they were standing by him, why they wanted to help him. There were lots of ways to make Starling City better-why did they think him shooting arrows into bad guys was the right way?

He wasn't sure. But . . . but he knew he couldn't do this without them. Both of them.

So all he could do was step forward and hold his hand out to Tommy. "You're sure about this?" he asked.

Tommy took his hand, shaking it slowly. "I'm sure."

His grip was firm and steady. There wasn't any doubt there. And . . . and it was good.

Clearing his throat a little, Oliver nodded. "Then welcome to the team."

"Thanks. Don't think this means the Felicity discussion is over, though, Ollie," Tommy said, letting go of his hand to mock-punch him in the shoulder.

"I'm going to regret this," Oliver said, putting a grin on and making his words into a joke.

But he hoped he wouldn't.

XXX

Publishers Weekly, December 20, 2013  
><strong>Martha Ellis Fired; Takes Half of Ex Astris's Staff With Her to HarperCollins<br>**_Fate of Ex Astris Undetermined_

Wall Street Journal, December 20, 2013  
><strong>Prolonged Search for New CEO Scares Investors Away from Queen Consolidated<strong>

Starling City Tattler, December 21, 2013  
><strong>Two Santas and a Ms. Claus<strong>

Thea Queen smiles as she helps her brother Oliver and his best friend Tommy Merlyn at the revived Starling City Children's Christmas Gift Market. The event allowed children from all over the city, across economic lines, to shop for Christmas presents at no charge. The event was underwritten by Merlyn Global.

XXX

Okay, she couldn't keep doing this for much longer. Not just because it was pretty chilly out here right now and this casserole dish was heavy with all the healing powers of Jewish comfort food, but because even in the Glades, a woman pacing and talking to herself was bound to attract attention. And attention in the Glades wasn't often the positive, life-affirming kind.

Even with the Hood around, it was usually the 'you in danger, girl' kind of attention.

And since it was broad daylight, the Hood was probably not around.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity told herself to stop shilly-shallying and ring Sara's bell. Using her knee to hold up the casserole dish, she pressed the button firmly and emphatically.

It took a few moments before Felicity heard anything, and then there was the metallic grinding of locks turning before Sara pulled open the security door. "Felicity. I didn't know you were coming over . . ."

"I know-I probably should have called, but I thought with the recently-dislocated shoulder and the bruised ribs, you'd be home." She eyed Sara, feeling relieved at seeing her in yoga pants and a t-shirt-her standard attire when she was in veg-out mode. "And it looks like I was right."

_Way to be passive-aggressive, Smoak_, she chided herself. But Felicity didn't really care. Because how could Sara hide this from her? Was it because of their fight, which they still hadn't really made up from? But even if they were fighting, she thought that Sara knew she could call Felicity if she was in trouble or needed help. And Sara was still her friend enough to drag Felicity out of her apartment to get some fresh air, even if she had unknowingly taken her to a gunfight.

"Um, potato kugel?" Felicity asked, holding up the casserole dish and trying to end the awkward silence. "My bubbe's recipe. The only recipe I have of hers, since she was my dad's mother and . . . well, I didn't get to spend a lot of time with her."

Sara opened her mouth, probably to protest, but then she sighed a little and stepped back. "Come on up."

"Great!" Felicity said, following Sara from the security door and into her apartment building. They climbed the two flights of stairs, Sara still moving gracefully if a bit slowly while Felicity tried not to wheeze.

Once they were in Sara's apartment, Felicity set the casserole down on the kitchen counter and turned to face her friend. Sara definitely looked tired-but it was more than a physical exhaustion, Felicity thought. She looked like she was worn down to a nubbin.

"Thanks, Felicity," Sara said, not moving far from the door. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too. But I am not leaving. Not until we deal with our fight and you tell me what's going on with you," Felicity said, taking a step towards Sara. "I'm worried about you, and I realize it's not really fair for me to say that, with how I shut you down when you said the same thing to me, but-but I'm so sorry."

It was easy to see that Sara was nervous: she didn't make eye contact with Felicity as she rubbed the toe of her sneaker against the floor. "It's okay. Thanks for stopping by."

"Sara, I'm not leaving until we work this out," Felicity said, standing her ground. "I've missed you, even with being buried under work. I want to make sure you're okay."

That made Sara look up, her eyes full of confusion. Felicity did her best to smile as she adjusted her glasses. "I don't make potato kugel for just anyone."

Letting out a quiet laugh, Sara walked over and hugged her. "You're lucky you're so cute."

"Yep, that's me. Felicity Smoak: cute." Felicity hugged Sara back tightly, but then suddenly loosened her arms. "Oh my God, your ribs! Are you okay?"

Sara laughed again and pulled back. "I'm fine. I've had way worse."

Felicity pointed her finger at Sara. "See, that? Does not make me any less worried. So spill, Lance."

"You're also bossy," Sara said, walking over to drop down on her super-comfortable, super-ugly couch.

"I was ready to ask Laurel for help," Felicity said, walking over to sit down. Kicking off her flats and tucking her feet underneath her, she quirked an eyebrow at Sara. "And she makes me look like the exact opposite of bossy."

"Thank God you didn't get Laurel involved-I don't know if I could deal with her, too," Sara said, leaning back against the couch a bit gingerly. "Because you don't have anything to worry about with me. I was working with a new instructor at Coal Mine and he doesn't really know his own strength yet. He's a friend of a friend, so I was trying him out, seeing if he could be a good teacher."

Listening to Sara, Felicity tried to stay objective. The explanation was a likely one and Felicity supposed Sara's injuries could have come from that. But something just seemed . . . off.

"I hope you told him off for dislocating your shoulder," Felicity said. "I would have-in between the whimpering."

"Oh, I did. I don't suffer in silence," Sara said with a grin. "Just ask my dad. He always said I had a cry that could break the sound barrier."

Laughing a little, Felicity grinned. "I'll be sure to ask him that the next time I see Captain Lance." She paused, feeling her smile fade as she gathered her thoughts. "We never really talked about what happened that day in Jitters."

"I'm telling you, Felicity, it's nothing to do with Ollie-"

"I believe you," Felicity said quickly, not really wanting to talk about Oliver. Not wanting to get off the main subject, which was Sara and their friendship. "I shouldn't have accused you of that-you've been nothing but a cheerleader for me and . . . and it's nice. So I wanna return the favor. Be your cheerleader. Even though I'm pretty far from the cheerleader type."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Cute little blonde . . . I'd kill to see you in a pleated skirt with some pom-poms," Sara said with a grin, a hint of a leer in her voice.

Even as she blushed, Felicity picked up one of the throw pillows and gently bopped Sara on top of her head. "Behave, please. I'm being serious."

"So you hit me with a pillow? Real serious there, Smoak," Sara said, her chin dimple fully coming out to play.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity dropped the pillow and sat up. "You've been a rock for me over the last three years. And I've needed that. More than you probably even realize. But-but I don't want to take and never give in return. If you need help, I'm here-I'm always here, Sara." Reaching out, she rested one of her hands on top of Sara's. "You know that, right?"

Sara met Felicity's eyes. "I do know that," she said sincerely. "Just knowing that you're here helps a lot, Felicity." She paused, her eyes looking away for a moment before she took a breath. "It's hard for me to depend on other people. But . . . but I'll try to get better."

"That's all I'm asking," Felicity said, squeezing her hand tightly. "Thank you."

Moving forward, Sara wrapped Felicity in a hug. "Thank _you_, Felicity."

If she tried to talk, she'd burst into tears. So Felicity just hugged Sara back, feeling relieved and happy to have her friend again.

"Your roots are showing."

And now the moment was over, apparently. Laughing, Felicity pulled back. "Thanks for reminding me. You want to help me cover up the brown? We could make a night of it: hair and nails, while eating kugel and chocolate and watching bad movies."

"I wish I could," Sara said, standing up. "But I've got to get to the dojo."

"What?! You're working-in your condition?" Felicity squeaked, jumping to her feet.

"I've got to work, Felicity. And I'm not doing anything physical," Sara said, picking up her leather jacket, which now looked even more badass with a bullet-ripped sleeve. "I'm just correcting form and adjusting positions. I can do that no matter how my ribs feel."

She didn't like this. Sara should be resting. But her friend was also stubborn-and she had a point. If you didn't work, you didn't get paid. Maybe she was being too overprotective. Sara seemed to have a good idea of what she was and wasn't capable of. But that didn't mean Felicity was going to let Sara exhaust herself.

"Okay, but when you're done tonight, you call me and I'll bring you home. You shouldn't have to wait for a bus in the cold after that."

"You know, I will totally do that," Sara said. "And we can get Big Belly and you can tell me what's going on with you."

"Deal," Felicity said with a big smile.

XXX

Although Oliver would be the first to admit that Tommy's help was paying off, there was one big drawback. Tommy wasn't afraid to play dirty.

That was how, the night they installed the surveillance cameras to track the blonde vigilante, Oliver wound up being the one to relay to Diggle and Tommy whether the video feeds were transmitting to the computers in the Foundry.

"You need to stay off that knee, and if you don't, I'll tell Thea you're dying to take swing dancing classes and want her to go with you, but you're too scared to ask her," Tommy said. "And you can't say no to Thea, just like she'd do anything for her big brother."

"I think you're overestimating my influence over Thea," Oliver said, frowning at Tommy. "And low blow, Merlyn."

Tommy just gave him one of those toothy, 'trust me!' smiles that he had been giving Oliver since they were preschoolers. Rolling his eyes, Oliver took a seat in the desk chair in front of the computers. "Fine."

The fact that a cold rain was falling while Digg and Tommy did the install made him feel a little less annoyed about being in the somewhat-warm lair, at least. The rain would have turned his knee into a stiff pretzel . . . and the idea of Digg and Tommy dealing with the rain seemed a fair punishment for their meddling. Even though Tommy, the main ringleader, was sitting in the van, out of the elements.

Tapping on his communicator, Oliver said, "Camera four needs to be turned about five degrees to the left-part of the alley is cut off."

After a few moments, the camera angle changed, giving a perfect view down the alley. "That's good," Oliver said.

"Two more to go," Digg said. "I'm moving to the building across the street and going radio silent."

"Afraid to let me hear you huffing and puffing, Digg?" Oliver asked in amusement. With the amount of equipment that had to be transported up multiple flights of stairs, even Digg's physical capabilities were being taxed.

"Radio silent now."

There was a small hiss as Digg's communicator went silent, then Tommy chuckled. "Digg's got the patience of a saint for putting up with you."

"He does," Oliver said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his knee a little. "I never thought I'd be grateful to my mom for sticking me with a babysitter."

"Hey, Oliver?"

Tommy's voice had changed, gone a bit quieter. It made Oliver curious-because when Tommy sounded like that, usually it wasn't good. "Yeah, Tommy?"

"Um . . . I wanted to apologize. About Felicity."

He sat up straight. "What do you have to apologize about?"

"Easy there," Tommy said. "Nothing like that. It's because earlier today, I looked her up and saw what happened to her."

As always, the thought of the attack on Felicity made anger bubble inside him. Anger and . . . something else. Something dark and uncertain, something that made him wonder how things would be if her attacker had gone farther. Had gone too far.

"Sometimes, I think about the guy who attacked her, sitting in Iron Heights, and I just . . ." Oliver let his voice trail off, knowing he was opening a can of worms.

At least Tommy agreed with him. "I know. So now I get why you're so protective of her."

Letting out his breath in a huff, Oliver nodded, even though Tommy couldn't see it. "Yeah. She's . . . she's pretty inspirational, how she's dealt with what happened to her, how she's trying not to let it destroy her. But it definitely fucked up her life."

"Yeah?"

God, he had really missed this. Just talking to his best friend. Even back in the days before the island, when he had kept up a mask to everyone, trying to live up to all the expectations, Tommy was someone that he could sometimes drop the facade with. And now . . . it felt like their friendship was even better than before. He certainly didn't feel that same flight-or-fight response now when he got serious with Tommy. It could be the changes they had both gone through. Or maybe it was something about tonight, something that let him open up.

"She was on the verge of a really successful career. And then she gets beaten up and left for dead in that alley-forty-five fucking minutes before anyone found her, Tommy-and she doesn't write anything for five years, pretty much, and now . . . she's broke. I know it, she knows I know it, but she's so stubborn, she won't even let me buy her coffee without paying me back the next day."

It was like a knot was untying in his chest, venting his frustration to Tommy. So he kept going with the most recent development. "And now that it looks like Ex Astris is going under, she's gonna be in real trouble, but I know she won't accept any money from me. And it fucking sucks."

"Man, Oliver. You're really upset about this," Tommy said, sounding surprised. "I mean, I thought you just had the hots for her . . ."

Before he could help it, he said, "Yeah, well, it'd be easier if that's all it was."

Tommy made a small noise of agreement but didn't say anything more, leaving Oliver to his thoughts. He was glad for it: it gave him time to collect himself. Time to calm down, to remember that Felicity was just his friend. He'd feel this way if Tommy had been cheated out of his trust fund or if Digg got a bad break.

She was just his friend.

"I just got a crazy idea."

Oliver sat up in his chair a little. "Crazier than renting out that stadium for strip kickball with SCU's chapter of Kappa Delta?"

"No, not that crazy, 'cause I'm older and wiser now," Tommy said, a grin in his voice. "But still, kinda crazy. We should buy your publisher."

"What?"

"We buy Ex Astris. Kinda like how you bought the _Tattler_-don't think I didn't see how you used one of your mom's companies to do that-by using one of Merlyn Global's subsidiaries as the purchaser. That way, it gets a nice big cash infusion, Felicity and you can keep publishing, and you get to be her knight in shining armor."

It was a crazy idea. Because it'd be easy to trace the purchase back to them, because once the news got out there'd be a ton of press about conflict of interest, and because . . . it was perfect. It was the perfect solution, except for one small detail.

"Putting aside how crazy this is, what makes you think I should tell her?"

Tommy scoffed. "You have done so much more to impress girls you barely knew. And . . . c'mon, Oliver. You want to tell her, you just think you shouldn't."

"Because I shouldn't," Oliver said. "You don't know Felicity-she would be pissed as hell."

"Are you sure? Maybe you need a second opinion, someone who doesn't know the delightful Miss Smoak as well as you do . . . " Tommy said.

"No," Oliver said immediately.

Yet again, Tommy scoffed. "Not like that. Not that you've called dibs or anything," he said, referring to their long-standing tradition. "But no, I'm just curious about her. Besides, you never know when Hood-related business might get in the way of one of your little coffee dates, and if Felicity gets to know me a little, I could explain things without giving anything away."

Damn it. Tommy was actually making sense. He really hated when that happened. Especially when it came too close to reminding him of who he used to be. But . . . the idea did have merit. And maybe it would deal with Tommy's curiosity, too.

"Okay," Oliver said, blowing out a breath. "You think you could pull yourself out of bed around nine tomorrow and come to Jitters?"

"I can be there. Not awake, but that's where the coffee will come in," Tommy said cheerfully. "So let's talk more about buying a publisher."

The crackle of static alerted them that Digg had turned his earpiece back on. "But I guess that will wait until later," Tommy muttered before speaking to Digg to direct him where to place the new cameras.

That let Oliver try and decide which decision would blow up in his face more: buying Ex Astris . . . or letting Tommy spend time with Felicity.

His cell phone ringing, with the ring tone that Felicity had set for her calls, made Oliver smile. He muted his communicator as he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Oliver?"

The panic in Felicity's voice immediately made him come to attention. "Felicity, what's wrong?"

He could hear her take a deep breath, as if she was calming herself down. "It's not a big problem, I just-I need-"

"Anything-whatever you need," he said immediately, already on his feet and shifting his weight back and forth, ready to leave as soon as he knew why she was calling him. And the only reason he wasn't already in his car was because of Digg and Tommy.

"Could you-is there any way you could come and give me a ride to Sara's dojo? I promised I'd pick her up after her classes, but my car won't start and-"

For just a moment, he let himself close his eyes and feel relieved that it was as simple as needing a ride. That she wasn't in danger, that she wasn't having a panic attack. And then the thought occurred to him that she had called him for help. She trusted him.

_Not now_, he thought, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. "Where are you?"

"Are you sure? It's not a pain? Oh, thank you, Oliver. You're a lifesaver-I'm too late to meet Sara if I took the bus and the whole point of this was so she wouldn't have to take the bus after classes, with being tired and injured-oh, I need to tell you where I live."

"That would help," he said, wishing that his words had come out friendly, even flirty, instead of low and focused. But his mind was creating this image of Felicity, standing outside in the rain with a broken umbrella next to her non-working car: a wet dream for a mugger or someone worse . . .

Felicity let out a small noise, one that he couldn't identify, before she gave him her address and got off the phone. He grimaced a little, worried that she thought he was mad at her or that she regretted calling him in the first place. Tapping his communicator, he said quickly, "I've got to go. Nothing Hood-related, it's personal. Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're nearly done," Digg said.

"Good," Oliver said, yanking the communicator out and heading for the stairs.

XXX

Not that she didn't enjoy seeing Oliver for any reason, but the sight of him pulling into her parking lot in a sleek towncar nearly made her jump and down from joy.

Although that could be about getting the blood back into her feet so they'd warm up.

He gave her a tight, anxious smile through the passenger-side window as he drew up beside her. She barely waited for him to stop before yanking the door open and throwing herself inside. A wall of heat hit her and she let out a soft moan. "Oh, that feels so good."

She thought he did a double take, his lips pressing together, before he reached out and lifted both her hands up to the vents. "I thought you might be cold," he said, his voice deep.

"I'm freezing-oh my God, my butt is warm. Heated seats?" she asked, looking at him and smiling.

Nodding slowly, Oliver gestured towards the console between them. "Feel free to adjust anything. You said you were picking up Sara?"

"Yes-thank you, really, Oliver. I swear, this isn't going to become a thing, my car is normally really reliable." She rested a hand lightly on his forearm. "I appreciate you coming out tonight to help me."

"Felicity-" He stopped and turned his head to look through the windshield. She frowned a little, wondering what was going on with him, as he gave a small shake to his head before looking back at her.

"You called me, sounding scared, and said you needed my help. What else did you think I was going to do?"

Was it possible to feel the earth tilt on its axis? Because Felicity was pretty sure it just did. Because . . . this didn't sound as simple as calling someone for a ride. He made it sound monumental. Like if she asked him for something, even if he couldn't provide it, he'd still find a way.

This went way beyond friendship.

His jaw worked and she could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Where-where are we going?"

Even a MIT-educated genius would say "Huh?" at such a seeming non-sequitur. And maybe it was because her brain was busy rebooting after locking up. Oliver cleared his throat and repeated the question, and she realized he didn't know where to drive them.

In a quiet voice, she told him the address of the dojo and he nodded before his hands moved on the wheel, pulling away from her car. Felicity turned her head, looking out the window as she tried not to panic. Panic in the way normal people meant, when they were dealing with something big and unexpected and not the memory of a horrific beating. Because she was freaking out about this.

It was one thing to like Oliver. To be friends with him. To know that he liked her, too. But being more than that? In spite of what Sara might say, it wasn't that easy. They had such different backgrounds-there was still so much she didn't know about him, so much she hadn't told him.

This was the wrong time to be thinking about this. Not with Oliver close enough to touch . . .

Slowly, she turned her head a little, enough to see him out of the corner of her eyes. She couldn't read him. He had put his mask back up, the bland expression that held everyone at arm's length. And that _hurt_. It hurt that he was hiding himself away like this.

God, how had they even gotten here? How had a simple request for a lift changed _everything_?

Oliver eased up to the curb in front of the Coal Mine Dojo, slowly parallel parking with a graceful competence. He turned off the car, making her look at him. "What . . .?"

"I'm coming in with you." His voice brooked no disagreement. There was a hardness to him, something she had never seen before. Something that made her suddenly understand how he had survived on that island for five years.

"Okay," she said quietly, pulling her coat around herself and stepping out of the car. She kept her arms wrapped around her body, sensing Oliver fall into step beside her as they walked into the dojo.

The class had just broken up, it appeared: students were unwrapping their hands or pulling on sweatpants and coats, while Sara was chatting with her fellow instructor at the far end of the room. Felicity slipped off her heels and glanced at Oliver. She did her best to smile and act normally. "No heels on the mats."

He nodded, his lips quirking just a little. "It's a good rule."

"I-I'm just going to go. Tell Sara that we're here. I'll be back," she said, feeling tongue-tied like never before around Oliver. She turned quickly and padded across the mats, nodding and smiling at a woman she recognized from her self-defense classes. When her eyes returned to Sara, her whole body went cold as she realized her friend was in a chokehold.

"Sara!" she said, dashing over. "What are you doing?! Your ribs!"

"I'm fine, Felicity," Sara said, grinning at her a little even as she pulled on the arm around her neck. Throwing an elbow back into the midsection of the instructor, Sara pushed the arm away and escaped the hold.

"You're never gonna get better if you don't take care of yourself," Felicity said, stepping forward and taking Sara's arm. "C'mon, we'll go back to my place and order some pizza."

"What happened to Big Belly?" Sara asked curiously. Her eyes flicked around the dojo, then whipped back to Felicity. "And why is Ollie here?"

Felicity frowned at the note in Sara's voice-a strange sort of tension that she didn't understand. "My car wouldn't start-I asked Oliver to give me a ride. Is . . . is that not okay?"

"No, it's fine," Sara said, shifting her weight a little. "I was just surprised. Let's go."

Sara started walking away, leaving Felicity to stare after her. What was going on? It wasn't her imagination-something definitely seemed off with Sara as soon as she realized Oliver was here. And-and Oliver was staring at Sara.

She followed Sara, needing to get closer to them, to get a better look at the two of them. Oliver was looking at Sara as if he had just discovered something huge about her. But what was it? And Sara seemed . . . nervous.

What the hell was going on?

End, Chapter 8


	9. Chapter 9

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 9/?  
><strong>Author<strong>: dettiot  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T for now  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Things are changing-and not just between Oliver and Felicity. This chapter ends up addressing some questions that readers have raised in reviews, so I hope you enjoy seeing the answers I'm presenting.

XXX

If he gripped the steering wheel any harder, Oliver was pretty sure it would crumble under his hands. But what could he do? Sara was the blonde vigilante. And he was finally figuring this out while Felicity was present.

Talk about crappy timing. But then, did he have any other kind?

Oliver eyed Sara in the rear view mirror as he drove back to Felicity's apartment, with Felicity chattering away, Sara occasionally responding. Felicity glanced over at him a few times, a confused look on her face. Like the look she had worn in the dojo, when he had been looking at Sara with narrowed eyes as he tried to process his dawning realization.

But how could he not give away what he was thinking, when it was all so surprising? The idea that Sara was the female vigilante was a shock. Because that meant Sara was the one beating up rapists, muggers and other criminals, putting her life on the line-and getting injured in the process. He'd noticed how she was favoring her ribs at the dojo. When they had fought, the night he had encountered her, he must have done that.

He'd unknowingly hurt an old friend. And he suspected he was going to have to hurt her more in order to get her to stop this.

Because it would have to end tonight.

When he pulled to a stop in front of Felicity's apartment building, she turned to look at him. "Oliver, Sara and I were going to get some pizza . . . do you want to join us?" Felicity asked, her voice a bit hesitant.

Before he could make his excuses, Sara spoke up. "Actually, Felicity, I think I'm gonna have to pass. I'm more tired than I thought."

Felicity turned around in her seat, her ponytail falling over her shoulder as she looked back at Sara. For some reason, Oliver found himself distracted by the fall of her hair, gazing at the shiny blonde strands. Wondering what her hair would feel like between his fingers.

_Later_, he told himself, shoving aside the still-unresolved feelings that Felicity's simple request for a ride had churned up within him. One crushing epiphany at a time.

"I can drive you home, Sara," Oliver said, glancing back at her before looking at Felicity. Her forehead was wrinkled and her lips were pursed, but after one last look at Sara, she nodded.

"If you're sure, Sara . . ." Felicity smiled a little and reached back to touch Sara's hand. "Call me later?"

Sara nodded, pasting on a smile. "Absolutely. Thanks for the ride, Felicity."

"You should thank Oliver," Felicity said, turning her head to smile at him. "See you tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Definitely. I've missed having coffee with you."

Felicity's cheeks went pink. "Me, too." She looked at Sara quickly, then opened the car door and stepped out.

As she walked away, Oliver saw her wrap her coat tightly around herself, her shoulders slightly rounded. He wasn't sure what that meant, what emotions her body language was expressing, but he couldn't look away from her until she got inside her apartment building.

The slamming of the car door made him turn, to see Sara now sitting in the passenger seat. "Something's changed with you two," she said quietly.

"We're not talking about that," he said firmly. "Because there's something you have to tell me."

She took a deep breath. "Why? You already know."

"I know that you're the blonde vigilante who's been running around the Glades," Oliver said, his voice hard. "But I don't know why, or how you even started, or what the hell you were thinking."

"I was thinking that the Hood doesn't have dibs on saving this city," Sara said, glaring at him. "There have been people protecting this city before you, Ollie."

Oliver turned off the ignition and then leaned back, staring at her. "What do you mean?"

Sara sighed. "When I was in high school, I was getting into trouble. My dad signed me up for boxing lessons and they helped me get a handle on myself. But more than anything, I learned what strength is for: to protect those who don't have it. And Ted, my instructor? He felt the same way. So . . . we started working together. Trying to make a difference."

"If you were doing this in high school, that was before I even ended up on the island," Oliver said, feeling confused.

"We weren't exactly drawing attention to ourselves," Sara said, rubbing her hands against her knees. "Mostly we went after muggers, purse snatchers-nothing big. But I had a few too many close calls, times when my dad or Laurel noticed I was hurt. And then Ted . . . well, he decided to hang it up. So I did, too."

Nodding slowly, Oliver looked at her. It made sense, based on what he had seen of her fighting style, of her approach. Trained, but not anywhere close to the extent he had been. "What changed?"

"Felicity."

He narrowed his eyes at her. If this was her way of avoiding his questions, by trying to distract him . . . "What changed?" he repeated.

Sara rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Ollie. You know what I'm saying. There's something about Felicity that makes you want to keep her safe. And the fact that some bastard hurt her . . ."

His gut tightened, remembering how he had felt earlier tonight when he had talked to Tommy about Felicity's attack, and when she phoned him. Sara reached out and rested a hand over his on the steering wheel. "I was working as a martial arts instructor when Laurel asked me to help Felicity out. And seeing how she was trying to recover, knowing how long it took for the SCPD to find her attacker-through no fault of my dad's-I just . . . got to thinking."

"Thinking?"

"Thinking about the people I could be helping. And when the Hood vanished last summer after everything that happened in the Glades, I decided it was time to put the mask back on," Sara said, not looking away from him. "And I'm not taking it off just because you know now, Ollie."

"Sara . . ." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't let you do this."

She huffed out a breath. "It's cute, Ollie, how you think you can stop me."

"I can."

He injected every bit of his soul's darkness into his voice. Sara needed to know that if she wouldn't stand down, he would make her. Because she didn't have the skills to do this-and she didn't have the instincts. Not the girl he had known for so many years.

"You can, yeah," Sara said, folding her arms over her chest. "But you're not going to."

"Why, because of Felicity?" he snapped, glaring at her. "Because you're protecting her?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Because it was revealing too much. Giving Sara a way to undermine him.

"That's part of it," Sara said quietly. "But it's more. You need me, Ollie."

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"There's things going on in the Glades. Things you have no idea about. I bet you don't know anything about Brother Blood, do you?"

Oliver frowned, trying to hold back his confusion. "Brother Blood?"

"Some whackjob in a creepy mask who's snatching people off the streets. People that are easily missed: drug addicts, hookers, runaways, homeless. He's got everyone scared, and you have no idea." Sara's voice was matter-of-fact; not judgemental, just pointing out something he didn't know. Which made him grit his teeth.

"Because I was busy chasing after a female vigilante," Oliver said, glaring at her.

"Ollie, you can't do this on your own-you need help," Sara said, turning to face him.

He started the car. "That's the thing, Sara-I do have help. But it's people I trust. And I don't trust you."

Was he burning a bridge? Maybe. But that didn't matter. Not next to Sara's safety, not next to her life.

Not next to Felicity's well-being.

XXX

The last chapter of _This or That_ was nearly done. Her novel could be completed in a week or two if she kept up her recent pace. With the bad news going around about Ex Astris, she really needed to have a strategy session with Laurel about what they were going to do. She owed a phone call to her mother. There were bills to pay, a few speaker invitations for her to accept or decline, and her apartment certainly could use some cleaning.

Yet her mind couldn't seem to stop focusing on the weirdness between Sara and Oliver.

Sighing, Felicity flopped down on her couch. She had tried to do some of the work that was piling up, but she kept getting distracted. Because there had been such a strange vibe between two of the most important people in her life.

And the fact that Oliver had achieved that status, and what had happened in his car before they picked up Sara, was definitely something that was keeping her off-balance, too.

It was just so frustrating, having all these questions with no way to get the answers. At least, no way that didn't involve a lot of risk. And even with the answers, she wasn't sure if she would be able to grasp what was going on. It was like some kind of mystery, and nothing annoyed her more than a mystery. She had grown up reading Nancy Drew mysteries, and every time she had opened one of those yellow-spined books, she had vowed she would figure out the culprit before Nancy did. And on those rare occasions that she didn't, she had to immediately re-read the book, to see what clues she had missed.

But mysteries in books had to make sense. Real life was full of red herrings and clues that weren't really clues, facts that might seem significant but weren't in the end. But just because it was hard didn't mean she should just give up on this. Not when Sara's health was at risk-not when something seemed to be going on between her and Oliver.

Nothing romantic, thank goodness. She was pretty sure about that. And now was not the time to think about why she was so grateful for the strange vibes not being romantic, Felicity told herself. No, she had to stay focused on figuring out what was going on with Sara, and why Oliver suddenly seemed so interested in her.

But how to get started on unravelling this mystery? Talking to Sara hadn't helped, not with how her friend had come up with a reason for her injuries that made sense at the time. But the more Felicity thought about it, the less Sara's justification held water. She was still tempted to ask Sara's family for help, but Felicity doubted that Laurel or Captain Lance would know more than she did.

So that left only one option.

Felicity looked over at her laptop, sitting on the kitchen table. She pressed her lips together, admitting to herself that there were other options-but none as fast as taking advantage of her computer skills to do a bit of illegal research. Really, it came down to whether the risks were worth the reward. Would knowing how Sara was getting injured worth the blow to their friendship if Sara found out? Would hacking traffic cameras and law enforcement servers to get the information she needed matter if she got caught in the end? Could she even hack anymore, given how rusty her skills were?

And would this answer why Oliver had stared at Sara tonight, like he was seeing her for the first time and wasn't sure he liked what he saw? Especially when there were bigger questions in her mind when it came to him.

"_You called me, sounding scared, and said you needed my help. What else did you think I was going to do?" _

Just the memory of his words made her stomach flutter. Add in the way he had looked at her, his blue eyes alight with some inner fire she had never seen before, and his voice low and deep, and she was back in the car, feeling the same tingle all over her skin at the tension that crackled between them.

It had been the most electric moment she had ever experienced. And the most confusing. Because she still didn't really know who Oliver was to her-or who she was to him-and it was becoming clear that the mystery of their relationship would have to be dealt with. Soon. Or else she would just lose control of herself the next time one of those moments happened and-

Taking a deep breath, Felicity got up from the sofa and went over to her computer. The important thing right now was Sara: discovering how she was getting hurt and figuring out why she had lied to her. Yes, it was possible that it could have been a new, careless instructor at the dojo. But the more Felicity thought about that, the less likely it seemed. And if Sara was lying to her, Felicity wanted to know why. Because it meant her friend was in danger.

If Sara was in danger, she might not ask Felicity for help. But that didn't mean she had to suffer all on her own. And if it meant violating her friend's privacy, Felicity would just have to live with the guilt. And hope that someday, Sara might forgive her.

Her fingers were poised over the keys, but she hesitated. This could lose her Sara. She could lose her best friend if she did this. Would the fact that Felicity was only doing this because she was worried be enough for Sara? Would Sara understand that only the fact that she was so important made Felicity be willing to face such a bleak future?

And what if she discovered something she didn't want to know? Something that changed her opinion of Sara?

No-no, that didn't matter. Sara was her friend, no matter what. _Nothing_ could change that, and regardless of whatever situation Sara had gotten herself into, Felicity would stand by her. Just like Sara had done for her so many times before. As recently as last week, when she had used her own body to shield Felicity from gunfire.

That memory, more than anything else, made Felicity get to work.

She started slowly with just a basic Internet search before expanding into a few databases that were relatively accessible to the public; Felicity just bypassed the payment requirements to get in and run the searches. There wasn't that much available: a few articles talking about Sara's work at the dojo, photos of her from her party girl days, and a reference to Sara in the legal filing of her parents' divorce, indicating that Captain Lance had custody of the minor Lance daughter.

Felicity already knew all that: when the Lances broke up, Mrs. Lance had moved to Central City for a job. Laurel was attending SCU and Sara, at seventeen, had chosen to stay with her father and Laurel. But the divorce and custody proceedings hadn't been acrimonious, and it was nearly ten years ago, so Felicity knew it didn't have anything to do with Sara's recent behavior. At least, it wasn't likely.

So now it was time to go deeper. And as she began testing out the defenses of the SCPD's firewall, Felicity just hoped she wasn't biting off more than she could chew. Because she didn't think if she called Oliver needing a lawyer that he'd be so quick to help as he was earlier tonight.

"_You called me, sounding scared, and said you needed my help. What else did you think I was going to do?" _

XXX

"Ollie, I won't let you stop me."

"How are you gonna stop me, Sara? Look at you! You're nursing sore ribs and a shoulder that's clearly been injured recently-I can tell." Oliver glanced at her as he drove her to her apartment in the Glades. "How can you fight when you're hurt like that?"

"And you're saying you're indestructable? Or did you think I'd miss how you're favoring your right knee?" Sara's voice was raised yet controlled. But the small smirk on her face was hard to miss.

Turning the wheel very carefully in order not to jerk it, Oliver worked to keep his temper. But it was hard. This was a side of Sara he'd never seen before: angry, passionate, determined. Well, no, he had seen her passionate before, but never in this kind of context. And having her meet his arguments and refuse to back down wasn't what he expected.

"You know I can fight, Oliver," Sara said, emphasizing his name slightly and not using his nickname for the first time tonight. He supposed she thought it would make this more professional, perhaps. "And I've got connections in the Glades that could help you. Ted taught me how to keep my ear to the ground, and ever since the Hood stopped going after one percenters, you could use someone giving you intel like that."

"Like about this Brother Blood?" Oliver asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah. He's bad news and he needs to be stopped. The police could care less, you know that. But I care. And I know you do, too."

Her hand-so small and way too soft for a vigilante's-reached out and touched his again. "You care so much about this city. You've got a team-why not add another member to it?"

It was a good question. Through this whole argument, his brain had been trying to point out that Sara was right. Having more help, especially in the field, would be good. And if Sara was right about what was going on in the Glades, it could give him direction. A purpose. Going beyond stopping random crimes and actually attacking the bosses that were controlling the big criminal rackets.

But . . . but he just couldn't do this. Couldn't let Sara in like that. Yes, she was an old friend. Yes, she could mostly hold her own in a fight. But that didn't mean he wanted this kind of life for her. After everything he had done, he deserved to live with the darkness, with the danger. But Sara didn't have to do that. And he couldn't understand why she wanted this kind of life.

_Maybe it's not up to you to understand_, a voice in his head said. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Felicity. _Maybe you just need to be accept that it's her choice_.

Taking a deep breath, he looked over at her. Her chin dimple had come out and her gaze was focused on him. She wasn't backing down. And he didn't want to make Sara into his enemy. Not really.

But that didn't mean he was going to bring her on board right away.

"I don't like this," Oliver said as he parallel-parked on the street in front of her apartment. "And I don't approve. But you're right. I can't stop you."

Sara's face lit up, reminding him of the girl he used to know, the girl who was always good for shots and sex. And once upon a time, he had taken full advantage of that, but now . . . now he wanted something else.

Someone else.

"So how do you want to do this?" Sara asked, schooling her expression into something more serious.

"For now . . . we'll just keep going like we have been," Oliver said. "It's better that there isn't a connection between the Hood and-what have you been calling yourself?"

"Nothing, since I'm not like you in the whole 'talking about myself in the third person' thing," Sara said, smirking for a moment. "But . . . I was thinking of Canary."

She said it like the name had some kind of significance for her, but he didn't know what it was. Although it made that sonic device of hers make more sense. "I don't want our other identities to be linked, if you're going to be my ears in the Glades."

"Good thing we're already friends, then-it'll let me pass information to you. Although don't you think it might cause some gossip if Oliver Queen's seen hanging out with a different blonde, especially one he's got a history with?" Sara gave him a long look. "And I don't want to hurt Felicity."

"Neither do I," he said shortly, glancing at her before gesturing towards her building. "It's getting late. You should probably go ice your ribs and shoulder."

Oliver could feel Sara's eyes on him. "You realize that Felicity really cares about you, right?"

"I care about her. We're friends, after all. We write together," Oliver said, hoping he didn't sound too blasé or defensive. "That's it, Sara."

The snort she let out was full-bodied. "That's not it. Have you even talked to anyone about her? Tommy? Thea?"

"Why is everyone so concerned about my love life?" Oliver said, turning his head to look at Sara, feeling a spike of anger. "Why does it _matter_ so much to _everyone_? If you knew what I've done-"

Before he could go too far, he bit back the words that were trying to get out. All the words that explained how he didn't deserve what he had. He hadn't made nearly enough amends to merit all he had gotten: his return home, a mission that gave him purpose, a new career, friends, his family . . . Felicity.

He didn't deserve any of it.

Sara weathered his outburst, her face neutral. Then she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll be in touch if I hear anything more about Brother Blood. And yes, I'll ice my ribs and shoulder." She gave him a small smile and got out of the car, but paused, holding the door open. Then she leaned down and looked at him. "And we're concerned about you because there's a lot of people who want you to be happy. And for my money, you're happy when you're with Felicity. And if you're happy with her when you're just friends, then maybe . . . "

Her eyes held his for a long moment, communicating more than words could express. Oliver felt like he had been punched in the gut. She nodded her head and closed the car door with a quiet thud before heading in towards her apartment.

Oliver watched her go, trying to sort through what had just happened. He was pretty sure that Sara had just given him the message that he should go for it with Felicity. Which was just . . . crazy. He shouldn't think about her like that-he couldn't. All he could offer her was his friendship-to want more was just his typical Ollie selfishness making an unwelcome appearance.

Wasn't it?

XXX

If eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, as the saying went, what do snoops discover about themselves?

Felicity didn't know, but she certainly hadn't thought she'd discover that her newest friend was now in the newspaper business. Or that her best friend apparently fought crime at night while wearing a mask.

Leaning back in her chair, she ran her hands through her hair and then reached under her glasses to rub her eyes. It was well past midnight and she was only now starting to get a picture of just what Sara had been up to. Felicity had worked her way into the local traffic camera network and, thanks to some software she found online and tweaked, she was able to catch sight of a woman in a black leather costume and a mask, leaving the Coal Mine Dojo on three different nights in the last week alone. Nights when Sara didn't teach, but had been caught by the cameras entering the dojo anyway in her normal clothes.

The software, now that it knew what to look for, was going through several months' worth of footage, looking for all appearances of this female vigilante. A woman that Felicity knew was Sara. But even though she knew it was her best friend, she didn't understand why.

Of all the possible explanations for Sara's injuries and secrecy, being one of those costumed vigilantes wasn't on the list. Which showed what kind of genius she was, because it seemed like a new one of those crimefighters popped up every other week here in Starling City. But once she got past the shock . . . it made a strange kind of sense.

Sara cared about people a lot. It was what made her a great instructor at the dojo and a great friend. And even more than just caring, her desire to protect women was like a fire burning inside her. From donating as much as she could to the Starling Women's Shelter to offering any woman that needed one a hefty discount at the dojo, Sara put her money where her mouth was. And as a native of Starling, it was natural that Sara wanted to help her city. She certainly had the martial arts skills to be a vigilante.

But why a vigilante? Why hadn't she done something like become a cop? After all, Sara would know better than most people how important the police were to preserving law and order. Oh, God-Captain Lance would be so scared and unhappy if he found out Sara was doing this!

Letting out a soft groan, Felicity got up and started pacing, feeling too anxious to stay still. There wasn't much room to pace in her studio apartment, though, so after a few quick circles, Felicity made herself stop. She had to think this through, not freak out.

Sara was the blonde vigilante that had been popping up in the Glades over the last six months. From the injuries Sara had suffered and the video footage, Felicity certainly had enough proof to confirm it. She didn't know why Sara was doing this, didn't know why she had chosen such a path, but Felicity couldn't deny the truth.

So what would she do with this information? Confront Sara? Let Sara find out she knew by "accident"? Or say nothing? Tell Captain Lance and/or Laurel her suspicions? Or . . . Oliver?

With a sigh, Felicity lowered but didn't fully close the lid of her laptop. It was late and her mind felt like a stretched-out rubber band. Not surprising, with all it had to hold. Like Oliver, strangely enough, having an idea of something being off about Sara, if his reactions were anything to go by. Perhaps he had simply just picked up on Sara being injured and he was worried about her. They were old friends, after all.

Yet thinking about Oliver made her remember the little fact she had uncovered earlier tonight, as she had sorted through a bunch of society-page coverage of Sara over the years. It was a photo of Sara and Oliver from nine years ago, both of them with fresh faces but alcohol-glazed eyes, at a fundraiser sponsored by Oliver's mother. Moira Dearden Queen: a woman who came from a similar although less-wealthy background as her husband, a woman whose family owned a sizable number of newspapers and magazines, under the umbrella of the Dearden Communication Group.

The company that had just recently bought the Starling City _Tattler_, after making no new purchases for the last five years.

_Oh, Oliver. You have no idea how to hide your tracks. _

As she got ready for bed by double-checking the locks, turning off the lights, and then stepping into her bathroom to clean up, Felicity had to smile a little at how obvious it was. Did he really think it would take anyone long to figure out he had bought the _Tattler_? She supposed, given how much the tabloid had covered him over the years, most people would think that Oliver had reached his breaking point and bought the _Tattler_ in order to keep his name out of it. But then, how would you explain things like that exclusive interview Oliver had given about his book? Because that certainly wasn't keeping your name out of the most gossipy paper in Starling City.

Although . . . the _Tattler_ had totally dropped that story they had been planning, about Oliver's disappearance and his life after his return to Starling. The story for which they had wanted to interview her for.

Felicity froze, her toothbrush in one hand and her mouth hanging open enough to reveal the toothpaste smeared over her teeth and gums. Could he-was the point of buying the _Tattler _not about keeping his name out of the paper, but _hers_?

Oh, that was ridiculous. There was no way Oliver had bought a newspaper just to prevent a reporter from asking her questions. It wasn't that hard to say 'no comment' and eventually they would have left her alone.

Or would they? The _Tattler_ was notorious for its persistence. During her brief brush with fame, right before her attack, the tabloid photographers had been the worst. Perhaps Oliver was just trying to-

Giving her head a shake, Felicity made herself finish brushing her teeth. It was very late and she would want to see what video the software had uncovered before meeting Oliver for coffee. And since it was their first coffee date in a while, she kind of wanted to make sure she looked nice. She'd definitely look tired, but she could make up for that with straightened hair, even though she still hadn't touched up her roots . . .

Was it too late to go to the drugstore and get hair dye?

"Yes!" she said out loud, startling herself. "You are acting like a crazy person, Felicity," she muttered as she padded over to her bed. Sliding under the covers, she set her glasses down on the nightstand and closed her eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, she worked to relax herself, to find some calm so she could fall asleep.

But sleep was still a long time coming.

XXX

Why the hell was he considering wearing a suit? He was getting coffee with Felicity and Tommy, not going for a job interview.

Oliver turned in his closet and grabbed a pair of cargo pants and a henley. He pulled them on and impatiently checked his watch. After he dropped off Sara last night, he had gone to the Foundry and beat on the dummies for a few hours before driving around Starling. It had given him the time to work through the conversation with Sara, but it wasn't until he had attempted to sleep that he realized he still hadn't dealt with what had happened with Felicity.

Sleep hadn't really happened after that.

If he wanted to get to Jitters before Felicity-and more importantly, before Tommy-he'd have to move. He finished tying his boots, slid his notebook into the back pocket of his cargos, and headed out. But when he reached the foyer of the house, he pulled up short when he saw Thea perched against the center console table, idly swinging one of her legs and chatting a little with Diggle, who was standing at attention in his bodyguard role.

"Speedy? You're not normally up this early."

Thea gave him a big, sunny smile. "Turning over a new leaf. Getting the jump on my New Year's resolution to not sleep the day away, as I was just saying to Mr. Diggle. I thought you could give me a ride?" She batted her eyelashes at him, and he's all ready to agree, but then-

"How did you know I was going to be anywhere near Verdant?" He folded his arms over his chest and saw Thea's eyes widen for a moment. _Busted_.

"Are you saying you wouldn't give your baby sister a ride somewhere, even if it was out of your way?" Thea wheedled, hopping off the table to come closer to him.

Huffing out a laugh, he dropped his arms to his sides. "You're losing your touch, Thea."

She pouted a little. "I know-you've barely been around lately for me to keep my skills up. So okay, I knew you were going to Jitters to meet up with Felicity because Tommy told me and I thought this might be a good time for me to meet Felicity."

Over Thea's head, Oliver glanced at Diggle, gauging his reaction to this. His face was blank, but he could see the amusement in Digg's eyes. And honestly . . . Sara's words from last night had been nagging at him. About how there are people that cared about him. Thea definitely was one of those people, and he never got to spend as much time as he'd like with her. There's no way he can ever tell her about how he spent his nights . . . but perhaps the reasons to not tell her how he spent his days didn't really apply anymore.

Because after all, Thea already knew about Felicity, enough that she was pumping Tommy and Digg for info. Wouldn't it be better if she could come to him with her questions, rather than getting second-hand, inaccurate information? And given how little he knew about his sister's life right now, about that boyfriend of hers, this might be a way to get some leverage with Thea in order to set up a meeting with the mysterious Roy.

And how did it look to Felicity? He'd made it clear to her, however clumsily, that she was someone that mattered to him. Mattered like Thea mattered. So if she never got to meet Thea, or spent any time with Tommy, she might wonder about that.

His fingers rubbed together as he tried to tamp down his nerves. "I suppose you could come along . . . you could smooth over anything Tommy says."

The smile that appeared on Thea's face took him back to the days before the island, when a promise of ice cream and some time together, just the two of them, could put that look on her face. But then her eyes flicked over him and she sighed. "Seriously, Ollie, you're wearing that? Cargos and an old henley? Not that you don't make it look good, but you could at least make an effort."

Digg had a really hard time holding back his laughter, if the choked sound he made was anything to go by. Oliver arched an eyebrow at Digg and nodded to the door before looking back at Thea. "We're going to be late if I change, and besides . . . it's not a date, Thea."

"Sure it isn't, Ollie," Thea said, taking his arm. "So explain just how you and Felicity met."

Doing his best to hold back a sigh, because he knew Thea is going to spin this story into something it wasn't, Oliver still started talking as he led Thea out to the car. "We did a book signing together, seven years ago."

Thea's footsteps faltered just a bit. "Seven years-before the island, then?"

He nodded and held the rear door of the car open for her. "Yeah. Back when I was promoting _Frat Boy Way_."

"I still don't know how Tommy came up with that idea, let alone why you wrote it," Thea said as she got settled and Oliver took his seat next to her.

Shrugging while welcoming the change of subject, Oliver leaned back against the heated leather seat. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Kinda your motto back then," Thea said, giving him a somewhat affectionate look. "And I don't know half of what you got up to."

"If you know anything you know too much," Oliver said, nodding to Digg to head towards the Glades.

"Sorry, Ollie," Thea said, gently nudging him. "Once I learned to read, it was hard to avoid finding out stuff about you."

With a shake of his head, he smiled at her. "It's okay. Just . . . never fun to know that all your mistakes are just so . . . out there."

Thea reached over and took his hand, to his surprise. He wasn't trying to get sympathy or seek comfort-but it was nice to have her small fingers squeezing his. "I've screwed up plenty in the last few years, and it sucks that you know about all of it. I feel like I've disappointed you. So I know what you mean."

He nodded. "Although your mistakes, Speedy, aren't nearly as bad as mine."

Rolling her eyes, Thea let her head drop back against the seat. "Do you have to be Mr. Broody all the time? I thought you'd be cheerful again, since Tommy said this is the first time you're having coffee with Felicity in a while."

Damn. So he hadn't made her forget about Felicity. Hesitating for a moment, Oliver said, "Yeah-she was working on two different books at once, so she needed to be focused on that. But she's nearly done, so . . . coffee."

"How did the coffee thing even get started? I mean, you're not a caffeine junkie or anything," Thea said, turning to face him.

"I ran into her at Jitters, a few weeks after I came back. And eventually, it just . . . started. Us having coffee together," Oliver said, trying to make it all sound casual. Like having coffee wasn't something he had initiated because their random, unplanned encounters hadn't been enough for him.

"That's so cute," Thea said, grinning at him. "So you just sit and have coffee and talk?"

Oliver rubbed his hand against his pants for a moment. "We also do some writing. Separately, of course, not together. And she explains stuff about the Internet to me."

"Which you desperately need," Thea teased. "Oliver 'What's a Vine?' Queen."

"You know, I could have Digg just take you straight to Verdant, where you can drink the swill that Tommy sells as coffee," Oliver said, trying to sound firm but knowing he was failing. The grin on his face didn't help, either.

"Too late," Digg said as he pulled up in front of Jitters. "I'll meet you and Miss Queen out here, Mr. Queen."

Oliver nodded as he waited for Thea to get out of the car. "Medium or large today?" he asked, since he usually got John a to-go coffee when he left Jitters.

"Medium," Digg said, before lowering his voice. "You sure about having Thea and Tommy meet Felicity?"

"No, but I'm kind of hoping that things won't be too awkward," Oliver said. Digg didn't look very excited about his plan, from the quick look Oliver got at his face as he got out of the car and followed Thea.

Neither was Oliver, but it was too late now. And . . . and maybe this would all work out. Maybe it wouldn't be weird that his little sister and his best friend were meeting Felicity today, the day after he had all but told her that he would do anything for her.

Just thinking about it made his heart beat faster. Made him regret letting himself blurt out his reaction to Felicity's gratitude, even if it had felt good. Even if being honest with Felicity about something important had made him feel breathless and hopeful and alive in a way he hadn't felt as Oliver Queen in a long time.

He was wrong. Today was going to be really, really awkward.

XXX

As she walked through the Glades, Felicity took a deep breath. She wasn't sure how she was going to cope with spending time with Oliver, after what she had realized about Sara. Because she was pretty sure that Oliver had an inkling of _something_ going on with Sara. Maybe, with all his experiences on the island, he sensed that Sara was injured in some way. But it would be hard, not pumping Oliver for info on Sara. Especially since there was the second elephant in the room: what he had said to her about helping her, no matter what.

What would be worse: revealing to Oliver her suspicions about Sara being the female vigilante or asking Oliver just what he had meant?

_Duh, the second one, Felicity._

Shaking her head at her thoughts, Felicity pulled open the door of Jitters and stepped inside. Looking over at their regular table, she felt a smile bloom on her face as she saw Oliver sitting there, his head down as he flipped through the pages of his notebook. Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she walked over to him.

Just before she reached the table, he looked up, and something about his expression made her stop dead in her tracks. Because for just a moment, it was like she was seeing him for the first time-seeing into his soul in a way she had never been allowed before.

And then the shutters fell and he was leaning back and smiling at her, and while it wasn't the smile she now thought of as his normal smile, at least it wasn't those bland fake smiles he used to lay on her when he first came back. "Hey."

"Hi, Oliver," she said, sliding into the booth and dropping her laptop bag beside her. "I'm glad you don't have your coffee yet-I feel like I should buy yours today, to thank you for last night."

He shifted a little, closing his notebook and tucking it away. "You don't need to do that. Really, Felicity."

"Still-" she started to say, only for a cup of coffee to suddenly appear in front of her.

"Vanilla latte with extra sugar," said the beautiful young woman with long brown hair who had plopped the cup down in front of Felicity. She handed a mug to Oliver and then sat down beside him with her own cup, fixing her blue-gray eyes on Felicity. "So you're Felicity."

Felicity blinked, looking to Oliver. He smiled a little. "Felicity, this is my sister, Thea."

"Oh!" Her fingers fluttered to her glasses, and now she _really_ wished she had taken care of her roots last night, even though that would have meant caking on the concealer to hide her undereye circles. Because Thea Queen had the reputation of being a fashion plate and a beauty-and seeing her in person, the reputation was well-deserved and perhaps even a bit of an understatement. Because Thea was really, really gorgeous-and had the same kind of charisma as Oliver.

"Um, yes, I'm Felicity. Hi. Wait, how did you know what kind of coffee I like to drink?" Felicity asked, looking back and forth between the two siblings. "Oh, Oliver told you, right? Of course he did. The chances of you just guessing that-"

"Felicity," Oliver said, sounding amused. But not in a mean way, more in an 'I'm incredibly tickled by your existence' kind of way. And that was not a tone she would have ever expected to hear in his voice.

"Right," she said, picking up her coffee and taking a quick sip. "Thank you, Thea."

Having Oliver spring his sister on her without warning like this . . . Felicity was not prepared for that. And it made her wonder. Did he bring Thea along so they couldn't talk about what happened last night? Was he hiding behind his sister?

_Oliver Queen, Massive Wimp_. That didn't exactly fit with her image of him. And made her want to laugh hysterically.

She took another sip of coffee and tried to adjust to this surprise. "It's so nice to meet you, Thea. Oliver's so proud of you."

It was the truth on both counts. Because Oliver's love for his sister shines through whenever he talked about Thea: she might be the only person in his life about whom Oliver doesn't seem to have conflicted feelings. And so Felicity's been curious about the dichotomy of the girl the tabloids has described as a party girl and budding fashionista/club mogul, compared to Oliver's stories about 'Speedy' and the pranks she pulled on him when they were younger.

Thea's eyes go warm and she looked at Oliver for a moment, who shrugged his shoulders and smiled at his sister, and it made Felicity's heart go a little bit gooey to see Oliver like this. All warm and happy and protective of his sister. Then Thea turned back to Felicity. "It's really great to finally meet you, too. With how Oliver was keeping you all to himself, I wondered what was going on, but I think I'm getting it now."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Speedy," he said, a gentle warning in his voice, but Thea just elbowed him and smiled at Felicity.

"So I have an idea about this, but just how embarrassing is Ollie when it comes to technology?"

Felicity laughed, feeling grateful to Thea for breezing past her strangely cryptic statement and moving the conversation to something more comfortable. At least, more comfortable for her. Oliver looked like he's in the middle of his worst nightmare. At least, it was the worst nightmare for a normal guy, having his sister and another woman teasing him. For Oliver . . . she's pretty sure he's got more nightmare fodder than most people.

"Awful," she said with a grin, shooting Oliver a look over the rim of her mug. "So awful."

With a snicker, Thea leaned forward. "When he was twelve, he and Tommy figured out how to turn off the Internet filters so they could get porn. But it was this total accident, because Ollie dropped a can of soda on the keyboard and while cleaning it up, they found some secret code that disabled the filters."

"Oh, the poor computer," Felicity said, pursing her lips. "Soda is the worst thing to spill on a keyboard."

"I wasn't really thinking about the keyboard," Oliver said, half-sheepish, half-amused. "I was . . . distracted."

"I love that you're worried about the computer, instead of going 'ew, Oliver, porn' from that story," Thea commented.

Shrugging her shoulders, Felicity pushed her glasses up. "What twelve-year-old boy isn't going to want to find online porn? I mean, it's perfectly natural for guys to be interested in that. Not just guys, either-girls, too. I certainly took advantage of having Internet access and not a lot of supervision to do some research when I was that age, and nowadays-"

At the same moment she realized what she's saying, she sees Thea smirk while Oliver looks like he's trying not to choke. Felicity's face flooded with color and she pressed her lips together. "Can we please change the subject to something other than porn?"

"Please don't do that, I'm begging you."

It's really hard not to let out a yelp as a voice broke into their conversation-a vaguely familiar voice. And then Tommy Merlyn sat down beside her, leaning a set of crutches against the table and giving her a charming smile. "I always want to be involved in any conversation about porn."

Oliver cleared his throat again-was he coming down with a cold or something?-and nodded at Tommy. "Felicity, you remember Tommy."

"Of course she does-she thought I was more handsome than you when we all met," Tommy said, his eyes sparkling as he looked across the table at Oliver.

"Oh, did she?" Thea said, looking back and forth between Tommy and Oliver and grinning widely. "Do tell, Felicity."

"It-it wasn't-of course I didn't-" Felicity spluttered, feeling her composure totally slip away with the addition of Tommy. What the hell was going on with Oliver that he needed his sister _and_ his best friend to crash their coffee date? Was he that scared by the chance she would want to talk about what happened last night?

And just why did she feel so disappointed to not have Oliver's undivided attention? Even though yes, she was interested in meeting Thea, and getting reacquainted with Tommy, because they were important to Oliver-but not like this. Not today. Not when her head was already filled with so much worry and confusion, not when she was trapped in this booth without any way of getting out and Oliver was right across from her, smiling and trying to act relaxed when she could _see_ the tension in him-tension that could only be from not wanting to be alone with her.

She swallowed, looking down at the table. Her fingers twitched and she dropped her hands into her lap, where they could tremble out of sight. She couldn't-she wouldn't fall apart like this. They would all think she was a basket case. But the harder she scrambled for control, the quicker it felt like it was slipping away from her.

"Hey, ease up, guys," Oliver said, his voice sounding a bit faint to Felicity. "Thea, why don't you go get Tommy some coffee."

Dimly, Felicity heard Tommy and Thea banter about coffee, but she couldn't follow their jokes. She could only keep looking down, tracing the smooth wood grain of the table's surface with her eyes as she tried to breathe slowly.

It could have been one minute or ten before she felt like she could look up. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized that Thea and Tommy had both disappeared and it was only Oliver in the booth. Oliver, sitting across from her and looking completely stricken. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, like he was the guiltiest person on earth.

Licking her lips, she slowly lifted her eyes to his. And the guilt and worry that swirled in the depths of his eyes made her feel even more confused. She opened her mouth, then closed it, trying to figure out what to say. But then, the words came without any warning.

"What the hell, Oliver?"

He jerked back slightly. "Felicity?"

Felicity leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "Look, if you don't want to talk about last night, about what you said-about how you looked when you said it-that's fine. But be honest and tell me flat out," she said fiercely. "Don't use your sister or your friend as some kind of buffer. I don't let my friends treat me like this-I won't let anyone treat me like this, like I don't deserve a measure of honesty and respect."

If it was possible, Oliver looked even more guilty-and now there was a hint of fear in his eyes, too. "Felicity, no-it's not like that-"

"Tell Thea thank you for the coffee," Felicity said, snatching up her bag and stumbling out of the booth. If Oliver wanted, he could stop her, no matter how fast she moved. But she had to get away. Now.

And the thing was, Oliver didn't want to stop her. Because he let her walk right out of Jitters. And because she did it without looking back, she could only assume he stayed right in their booth and watched her leave.

End, Chapter 9

**Author's Note 2**: Please don't hurt me for that ending. :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Blinded by Love and Daring** 10/?  
><strong>Author<strong>: dettiot  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T for now  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in the **ink in my pen ran dry** series.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Arrow_. No copyright infringement intended.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'll totally own up that in order to make everything work in this chapter, I'm being wildly inaccurate about the timeline to publish a book. But since it was either be inaccurate about publishing or keep Oliver and Felicity at odds for many months . . . I chose to compress the typical pre-publication time. I think you'll all approve of this, I think. :-)

Seriously (Sinceriously?), I am blown away by the reaction to this story. The Arrow fandom has welcomed me with open arms and I am so thrilled that so many people are enjoying what I'm writing. So THANK YOU a million times, and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic!

XXX

Ever since the Queen's Gambit sank, Oliver Queen had faced things that would make most people give up on life. Torture, heartbreak, betrayal: they were just the first of many situations that tried to break him, but he had endured-and survived.

But watching Felicity Smoak walk away from him, after revealing just how disappointed and angry she was, hit him in a vulnerable spot deep inside himself. A place that was as soft and unprotected as he had been when he stepped onto the Gambit. A part of his soul that he didn't know still existed.

And it _hurt_.

It hurt to have Felicity angry at him. It hurt knowing everything she said was the truth. And worst of all, it hurt that he let her go. That he didn't run after her and stop her, tell her that he did respect her, he wanted to be honest with her and tell her everything, but not before he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Oliver felt his chest grow tight as he imagined it. Imagined kissing Felicity.

How had he fucked up everything so fast?

"Oliver."

Coming out of his head, he saw Tommy sitting across from him. He blinked. "Thea-where's Thea?"

"She said Digg was waiting for you, so I told her to have him take her to Verdant." Tommy leaned forward. "What the hell happened? Felicity looked like she was freaking out, and then when we came back she was gone and _you_ were freaking out."

Tommy's voice was carefully controlled, but Oliver can hear the emotions he's trying to hold back. Worry, first and foremost, but also a touch of anger, which doesn't make sense at all.

"I-" His voice cracks, like it hasn't since he was twelve. When his biggest worry was his father finding out that he was looking for porn on the Internet. When he had no idea what his future would hold, no idea that one day he'd be sitting in a coffee shop feeling so incredibly broken. "I let her go."

"Felicity?" Tommy asked, then rolls his eyes a little as if to admit how dumb the question was. "Was she okay?"

It killed him to say it, but Oliver's only answer is, "I don't know."

"For fuck's sake, Oliver, talk to me!" Tommy demanded, his voice low. "What was going on with Felicity?"

He ran his hands over his face, letting them rest on the back of his neck. "She gets-she gets panic attacks sometimes. I don't know how often she has them, but the one time I saw her having one, she was triggered by-" Oliver stopped and swallowed.

Quietly, Tommy finished his sentence. "By a memory of her attack."

"Yeah," Oliver said, staying in the same position. "I don't know what happened today, but I could tell she was panicking, so that's why I told you and Thea to move away. But-but once she calmed down, she . . . she got angry with me."

"Why?" Tommy asked, his brow furrowed.

Slowly, Oliver met his best friend's gaze. "Because I sprung you and Thea on her without any warning. And she thought it was because I didn't want to talk about what happened last night."

Tommy's eyes became as big as saucers. "Fuck-did you sleep with her?"

It's such a normal question. A question Tommy has asked him-and that he's asked Tommy-probably a hundred different times in their lives. So why did the question make him breathless and scared and wistful? He shook his head. "No."

"Then what the hell happened last night? You left the Foundry like a bat outta hell."

He let out a choked, bitter laugh. "She needed a ride. And when I showed up, she was so damn grateful, like I was doing so much for her, and I said-" He had to stop for a moment to get himself under control. "I told her that she called me, needing my help, so what else did she think I was going to do?"

It took a moment, but when Tommy got it, he sat back in the booth, his mouth falling open. Then he frowned. "I don't get it."

Maybe it was a 'you had to be there' moment. But he needed to explain this to someone. Needed some way to untangle this knot in his chest so he could fix things.

"It was like . . . I was making her a promise. And-and telling her how I felt about her, when I don't even know how I feel."

Tommy looked like he's bursting with questions, but he held them back-something for which Oliver is very grateful. Instead, he made a statement. "So you let her go."

The anger was back in Tommy's voice and Oliver looked at him with narrowed eyes. "She was upset. I didn't want to hurt her."

"Oliver . . . you already did that," Tommy said, sounding frustrated. "Why the hell didn't you just text me earlier and say I should hold off on coming by?"

"Would you have stayed away if I asked?" Oliver spit out, glaring at Tommy. "After all the pushing you've done? No, you wouldn't."

"Okay, maybe I wouldn't," Tommy said, wincing a bit at the admission. "But I don't understand what's going on with you two, and I really don't understand why you don't, either."

His anger had been rising in the last few minutes, and it took all that he had not to snap at Tommy. But Tommy wasn't who Oliver was mad at-he was mad at himself.

"It's easier to not know," Oliver said slowly, sliding his hands away from his neck and sitting up straight. "Better to not think about it. Because . . . because it's safer to say that Felicity is my friend and leave it at that."

"Maybe that worked before," Tommy said, his eyes locked on Oliver's. "But from what you've said-and what I saw today-I think you gotta try something else."

He nodded a little, looking down as he rubbed the fingers of his right hand together. His eyes wandered to Felicity's abandoned mug. It might be the first time he had ever seen her not finish a cup of coffee. There was a smear of her bright pink lipstick on the rim, standing out against the pale blue mug. He nearly reached out to touch the mug, to run his thumb over the spot where her lips had touched it.

For a minute, when Felicity was talking with Thea, he had gotten a glimpse of a new world. A life that was richer than the one he had now. A future that wasn't at all what he had expected when he returned to Starling.

But one that he wanted.

It had been a really long time since he had wanted something so strongly. Maybe that was why he hadn't done more to reassure Felicity, why he had let her go.

Because Oliver Queen, aka the Hood, didn't get what he wanted. Nothing in his recent past had changed that belief. So maybe he should just take this estrangement as a way to course correct, to create some distance from Felicity-

No. Everything inside him recoiled from the idea. He didn't want an end to this . . . connection with Felicity. Not like this. Not now.

So that meant it was time to figure out what came next. Even though he had no idea. But he would figure it out. He'd use everything he had to make a plan. Take the time, but not too much time, to craft something that had a chance at working.

Felicity deserved the best apology he could make.

XXX

By the time she reached her apartment, most of the anger had faded away. Now she just felt . . . numb. A bit exhausted from her panic attack, but also from feeling like a complete fool.

She just couldn't believe Oliver would treat her like that. Like she was one of the anonymous women that 'Ollie' used to hook up with, instead of his friend. He must have been so uneasy after what had happened last night that he had put up barriers between them-made it so they couldn't talk this over.

Well, if that's how he wanted it, that's how it would be. It wasn't like she didn't have plenty of things to occupy her time. She could get _This or That_ finished with a day or two of hard work. The novel was rougher, less polished, but she knew the finish line was in sight for that book, too.

Plus, there was figuring out what she was going to do about Sara, and calling her mom, and dying her hair and painting her nails and cleaning her apartment . . . she could very easily fill the hours she had wasted thinking about Oliver and being with Oliver.

Okay, so maybe she was still angry. Because time with Oliver was never wasted. Not when he got her a new cup of coffee without asking, before she had even realized her mug was empty. Not with how he always listened to her, never acting like her babbling was a bother to him. Not in those moments when he looked at her and smiled, his eyes so warm and a shade of blue she had never seen before . . .

With a grimace, Felicity went to her computer, flipping up the lid and sitting down in front of it. She had hoped the video software would have finished searching for Sara in her vigilante get-up, but it wasn't quite done yet, thanks to her old laptop's lack of processing power. It would still need another couple of hours.

Pushing up the sleeves of her sweater, Felicity took her tablet and opened her _This or That_ file. Writing on her tablet wasn't ideal, but at least she knew this book was nearly done: something that felt good after all the struggle it took to write it. If she was able to finish it today and send it off to Laurel, at least that would make today better. Give her something good to remember.

Felicity started slowly, but soon she got into a rhythm. She was just beginning to pull all the threads together in her conclusion, discussing how these format wars and device choices were a reflection of technology complicating everyday life, when her computer let out a soft beep.

So caught up in her writing, Felicity jumped at the interruption before remembering the video searches. A break would be a good idea-and she was too curious about seeing Sara in action to wait any longer. She hit save on her tablet, making sure the file had updated in her cloud storage account, before setting down her tablet and looking at the search results.

The software had pulled the raw camera footage, searching for any glimpses of the figure that Felicity had identified as Sara, and clipped out any non-relevant video. Now she could just fast forward through the resulting clips.

For the most part, there wasn't much. Sara must have a knack for avoiding cameras, because it was a lot of quick flashes and blurry images at the corner of the camera's view. But then she hit pay dirt: three minutes of Sara, fighting . . . someone.

Leaning in close to the screen, Felicity squinted as she tried to figure out who Sara's opponent was. The camera angle made Sara be the primary figure in the video. But then, she whirled her attacker around and they switched places-and Felicity gasped as she saw the hooded figure.

Sara was fighting the _Hood_?

Her mind went blank as she realized Sara had gone toe-to-toe with Starling's vigilante. What did that even mean? After all, the Hood seemed to be doing good things, from what she had read online in various blogs. So . . . what did that make Sara?

It took her a moment to realize that Sara and the Hood had stopped fighting. Instead, they seemed to be talking-almost arguing from their body language. After a minute, Sara pushed past the Hood, crossing the camera's path and disappearing. The Hood watched her go, motionless for a long beat, before he turned, fired an arrow, and jumped off the roof.

Jumped off the roof like it was as normal as taking the stairs!

This was crazy. Totally and completely _crazy_. She didn't know what Sara had gotten herself mixed up in, but Felicity had to do something. If she was worried before, now she felt frantic.

She snatched up her phone, ready to call Sara and insist that she come over and explain herself, but just before she hit Sara's contact, Felicity paused.

Whatever was going on, it looked like serious business. So serious that Sara hadn't told her anything about it. So to find out about this, she had needed to go digging in some not-exactly-legal ways. And while Sara had to understand coloring outside of the lines-she was a costumed vigilante, after all!-that didn't mean she'd be happy about Felicity knowing her secret.

If she wanted Sara to explain things, Felicity had to do this fairly. Logically. Which meant not blurting out what she knew in a phone call. No, it would be better to just invite Sara over, and once she could look her in the eyes, Felicity would ask Sara about her injuries. About the video footage. About Oliver's odd reaction.

And just what was up with Oliver and how he had looked at Sara last night? If Felicity didn't know any better, she'd have to consider that perhaps Oliver was the Hood, which was even more crazy than Sara being a vigilante. Because why, after all those years on the island and facing God only knew what, would he come back to Starling City and put himself through hunting criminals with a bow and arrow? Wouldn't he want peace and quiet, like the life he seemed to be building for himself now?

Giving her head a shake, Felicity pulled herself back from the Oliver tangent. She needed to focus on Sara right now, not on flights of fancy involving Oliver in green leather. No matter how tempting that might be-and _God_, why was she letting herself think about Oliver in leather pants when she was so angry with him?

Her thumb pressed lightly against Sara's contact and Felicity took a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm. When Sara answered, she kept her voice light. "Hey, you mind if I call in that raincheck for last night? I . . . I could use a friend."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Felicity felt guilty. Like she was getting Sara to visit under false pretenses. But the thing was . . . she really could use a friend tonight. After today, she wished that she could tell Sara everything that had happened and get her advice.

But for now, Felicity and her messy relationship with Oliver would have to wait. Sara was more important. Making sure that her best friend was okay came first.

There was a long pause before Sara replied, like she was measuring her words. But her words were casual when she answered. "That sounds great. I can pick up some Big Belly on my way over to your place."

"Great," Felicity said, trying to smile. "See you around six?"

"It's a date," Sara said with a chuckle. "Bye, Felicity."

"Bye," she said softly before hanging up the phone and taking another look at the video footage.

XXX

Publisher's Lunch, January 7, 2014  
><strong>Ex Astris Bought by Egmont Holdings<strong>

In a surprising turn of events, a corporate angel has swooped in and purchased Ex Astris, the Penguin Random House imprint on the verge of closure. Egmont Holdings has already announced they intend to expand the imprint into a full-fledged publishing house, targeting the intersection of pop culture and technology that was Ex Astris's original claim to fame, while cultivating a select group of authors and pushing into fiction publishing.

"With new books from Susan Cain and Oliver Queen nearing publication, and several other exciting projects on the horizon, Ex Astris has a bright future ahead, and we at Egmont Holdings are thrilled to be part of that future," reported Egmont's CEO, Mark Francis.

Starling City Examiner, January 22, 2014  
><strong>The Arrow and the Canary: New Names, New Approach?<strong>

For the last two years, costumed vigilantes have patrolled the Glades, working outside the law in Starling City's equivalent of the Wild West. And it seems that the masked crimefighters have made an impact: the Starling City Police Department today announced that crime in the Glades has dropped fifteen percent during the same period, with violent crimes such as murder and rapes dropping nearly ten percent.

Meanwhile, word on the street has it that these justice-doers understand their impact. How else to explain their code names? The vigilante formerly known as the Hood got the word out that he goes by the Arrow now; a name that might strike less fear into the criminal element if it wasn't for his reputation. He may not kill now, but the Arrow is still as vicious against crime as ever.

His apparent new partner is the female vigilante who has been spotted in the Glades since last fall. Branded the Canary, her special focus on rapists and those who prey on women is reported to make female residents of the Glades feel safer than they have in years.

"The Arrow and the Canary-they're getting the job done. They look out for us. We're gonna take back the Glades," said one young woman, who identified herself as Sin.

Publisher's Weekly, January 31, 2014  
><strong>Recent Sales and Acquisition Announcements<strong>

-_This or That_ by Felicity Smoak to Ex Astris. The first work of completely new material from Smoak since her groundbreaking work _Invading the Treehouse_ is reported to be an engaging, in-depth look at decades of technological choices: Betamax or VHS, Blu-Ray or DVD HD, Kindle or Nook. Repped by Laurel Lance; summer publication targeted.

Felicity Smoak Facebook page, February 3, 2014  
><strong>Thanks and More News!<strong>

All the congratulations and fist pump gifs I've gotten since the news broke about _This or That_ has been spectacular. I wouldn't be here without all of you and I'm so thrilled that you're already excited for this new book.

That's why I'm hoping you'll be even more excited with what I'm about to tell you. You're going to have double the pleasure, and by pleasure I mean a second book from me! I've been working on a novel while finishing _This or That_ and it's nearly done and will soon be with my agent, who is already working hard to find a publisher for it. It's such a huge change for me, to give fiction a try, but I feel like it's time for me to try something new. To reveal a part of myself like never before.

You'll be the first to know what happens to _Scientific Magic_ (the tentative title for the novel). Until then, thank you again for your support through all these years!

Wall Street Journal, February 7, 2014  
><strong>Queen Consolidated Names Moira Queen CEO<strong>

"Some may cynically say that this was always the intended outcome of our search for a new CEO," Walter Steele, head of the search committee, said in his prepared statement. "Let me assure you, the goal of this protracted search was solely to find the best person to run Queen Consolidated. Moira Queen is that person, and I foresee great things ahead."

XXX

Leaning heavily on Sara, Oliver tried not to reveal just how much his knee was affecting him. But they hadn't even reached the bottom of the stairs when Digg pushed Sara out of the way and dragged Oliver to the medical area in the Foundry. "Jesus, Oliver, you keep going and your leg is gonna be useless."

"Thank you," Sara said, shooting Digg a grateful look before glaring at Oliver. "You're taking too many risks, Ollie. You need to rest."

"Can rest when I'm dead," Oliver said, then bit back a groan as Digg manipulated his knee. "Hey!"

"You deserved that," Digg said. He kept moving Oliver's knee around, then stood up with a sigh. "You can't keep shooting up with lidocaine-or taking those island herbs-and going out there, Oliver."

Oliver gritted his teeth, feeling so damn tired. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Digg and Sara about this, especially after having to cut patrol very short due to his knee blowing out on him. Because it was the continuation of the same argument they had been having for three weeks, about how he was pushing himself too hard, risking too much with the chances he took. They said that Brother Blood wasn't worth the full-court press like this, that he was being too inconsistent and unpredictable.

At least Tommy wasn't ganging up on him about his work as the Hoo-the Arrow. No, Tommy was too busy managing Verdant and getting Ex Astris into the black. In order to preserve the fiction that Oliver had nothing to do with Ex Astris, Tommy had agreed to handle coordinating Egmont's management of the publisher. But it was a lot of work, and only having Thea to help with Verdant meant Tommy had plenty on his plate.

He was so busy, he didn't even bug Oliver about making amends with Felicity-

Closing his eyes, he pushed down the emotions that her name caused in him. He couldn't think about her now. Because his attempts to apologize had utterly failed so far.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried. He had sent her a few text messages, had left congratulations on her Facebook when the deal for _This or That_ was announced. Just small overtures, trying to feel her out. It'd be one thing if she hadn't answered each message, but she had. But her tone was always perfectly polite and damn near monosyllabic. No warmth, nothing of Felicity in her words.

Clearly, she didn't want to talk to him. She was still mad at him. So . . . so he had stopped. Taken a step back, telling himself that he just needed to regroup. Find another way. One that didn't make him look pathetic, such as asking Sara for help.

This wasn't something he had ever done before: trying to get a woman to forgive him. In the past, he would have moved on long before now, found some other brunette to bury himself in. But Felicity was different, and not just because she was blonde.

But whenever he tried to put anything he felt about Felicity into words, his tongue felt thick and his fingers twitched and his brain froze up. And until he could find a way to talk about Felicity, how could he get her to forgive him?

The chiming of his cell phone pulled him out of his thoughts, and he scooped it up, grateful for the distraction. It's an email from Isabel-actually, there's two emails, one from earlier today and then this most recent one, and he nearly put his phone away without reading them. But at this point, he'll take any kind of distraction.

Isabel was, as always, all business. In the first email, she said she was attaching the final proofs for his book and reminded him that this was his last chance to change anything-a fact she had told him several times already. Oliver wasn't sure if his patience was just at a low ebb right now, but the patronizing tone that Isabel always took with him was wearing thin.

But then his eyes widened slightly as he read the last paragraph.

_In surprising news, Ex Astris is looking to blow through all that new money in a big way. They want to send you out on tour with another author; I don't know who yet, but whoever it is, it's a good idea. Not that you really need to do that much to promote the book, much less doing it by grinding through a bunch of encounters with "fans", but it would definitely increase your bottom line and thus mine. They're eyeing a mid-March start for the tour, starting in New York and ending up in Los Angeles. Probably would last about a month. I don't get the timing-you should wait and kick off the tour in late May just before BookExpo and then wrap up at ALA Annual, but hey, they're still going to send you to those events, so it's not a problem for me. I'll keep you posted._

A tour? For a month? There was no way. He couldn't be away from Starling that long. He wouldn't leave the city unprotected like that. Leave-

"Something up?" Sara asked, coming to stand beside him and craning her neck a little to look at his phone.

Her question cut off his thoughts, thank God, because he knew where they were going and it wasn't someplace he was willing for them to go. So he answered her honestly. "Isabel says that Ex Astris wants to send me out on tour."

"Yeah?" Sara asked, a smile appearing on her face. "That's cool. Felicity said one time that she keeps hoping she'd get sent on a publicity tour but it hasn't happened yet."

Why did everything in his life kept coming back to Felicity? Kept making him feel like she was the center of his world in some way?

"I did some press with the other book, but nothing like a tour," he managed to say, trying to sound normal. "Not that I'm going to be able to do this tour."

Sara frowned, but then her face cleared. "You don't want to leave Starling."

"Can't," he said, nodding.

"Too bad," Diggle said. "With that knee of yours, you could use a break. Time away to clear your head."

"It's not that bad, Digg," Oliver said, repeating what he's been saying since Digg started harping, as he opened up Isabel's second email. And when he read it, he stood straight up and winced at the sudden weight on his bad knee.

Digg stepped forward immediately, steadying him a bit. Sara gave up on looking subtle and took his phone out of his hand. Oliver tried to grab it back, but she stepped away, a smirk appearing on her face as she reads Isabel's email out loud.

"So Ex Astris wants Felicity Smoak to go on this tour with you. I have no idea why they think it's a good idea, but they're being hardasses about it. Her book isn't even coming out for months, but they're willing to throw a lot of money at you for this tour. The last thing you need is her riding on your coattails and attracting more attention than you, so I'm opposed to this. I haven't said anything to them yet, though. If you don't get me an answer soon, I'll turn down the tour for you."

Sara looked at him, her face almost gleeful. "Your publisher thinks that you and Felicity are a perfect match."

Yanking his phone away from her, Oliver glared at her. "You don't want to do this, Sara."

"You're right, I don't!" she said, getting in his face. "Because you're being a stubborn asshole and I'm sick of it." She stepped back, then let out a groan of frustration. "Digg, you deal with him. I'm going home."

She turned on her heel and stomped out, leaving Oliver blinking with surprise before looking at Digg.

His partner let out a breath. "We got any more of that Scotch? You're gonna need it."

XXX

There are a few things that Felicity can count on. How reading a good novel will always cheer her up. That you should never read the comments. And that people will surprise you if you trust them.

And then there's her mother.

After Felicity posted on Facebook about her novel, she had gotten a very enthusiastic call from Donna. Bubbling over with praise, her mother hadn't held back how happy she was about Felicity taking her advice. "Oh, baby, everyone's gonna love it and you're gonna be bigger than . . . bigger than Nora Roberts!"

"I doubt that, Mom-after all, it's not a romance novel," Felicity had said, trying to manage Donna's expectations. But her mother would have none of that, and ever since, they had been calling each other more frequently, which was nice.

Most of the time, they kept the conversation to her career and what was going on in Donna's life. But today, her mother had sounded hesitant from the moment she had answered Felicity's call, and it had taken a few minutes of prodding until Donna finally opened up.

"Felicity . . . you never talk about him, and I haven't seen anything about you and Oliver Queen in the gossip pages, so I was wondering . . ."

Just the mention of Oliver's name made Felicity close her eyes and curl up in her chair. Because any time she thought about him, she just felt so confused. Confused and hurt and sad. And she couldn't seem to get past it, no matter how much she thought about what had happened.

Thank God Sara hadn't turned her back on Felicity after their conversation about Sara being the Canary. It had been probably the hardest discussion she'd ever had, and she still didn't know how she hadn't totally screwed it up with her proclivity for babbling. But Sara had been amazing: she'd been upset, of course, but she had understood where Felicity was coming from, had been touched at the amount of concern Felicity had about her. And while Sara had sworn her to secrecy and said she couldn't tell Felicity anything about what she was doing, at least Sara had agreed to let Felicity keep tabs on her, just in case.

It was reassuring that she wasn't losing_ all_ of her friends. Because as much as she had talked with Sara about Oliver before now, she just couldn't do it now. Which worried Sara, she knew, but . . . the words just wouldn't come. It was like there was no way of describing how she was feeling, what she was thinking when it came to him. And Sara hadn't pushed her, so even though Oliver had tried to reach out to her, Felicity just couldn't go back to the way things were.

"Mom-" Felicity started to say, trying to figure out how to respond to her mother's question, only for her throat to close up.

"Oh, baby," Donna said, her voice soft. "You're thinking too much."

"I guess so," Felicity muttered, slipping her fingers under her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"You know there's plenty of guys out here that owe me favors. Guys who are really good at breaking kneecaps."

Felicity let out a half-snort, half-laugh. She must sound really bad if Donna was breaking out the legbreaker jokes-something that a Las Vegas resident only ever did ironically. "Oliver doesn't need to worry about guys meeting him in dark alleys. Seriously, Mom, it's not like that. I . . . I just can't talk about it."

"Whenever you can, you know I'm here," Donna replied. "And damn it, I've got to get back to work. Talk to you later, baby!"

Getting in a goodbye just before her mother hung up, Felicity set down her phone and leaned back in her chair, taking a few deep breaths. Trying to keep herself balanced.

But no matter what she did, she felt unbalanced. Unsteady. Like something was missing. And it didn't take a genius-level IQ for Felicity to know what-_who_-was missing.

It wasn't like her to act like this. To be so coolly polite, to rebuff someone without giving them a chance to explain themselves. Because she did believe in forgiveness, in giving people the benefit of the doubt. But in this case, she just hadn't been able to do that for Oliver.

Because he had hurt her. First by springing his sister and his best friend on her-two people that she knew were important to him-and then pretending that he hadn't done that in order to prevent them from talking about what he had said. It was all his fault-he was the one who opened the can of worms, he was the one who took their simple friendship and made it into something more-

_Whoa there, Smoak_, a voice said in her head. _Is this really all on Oliver?_

She felt her lips purse into a pout, because she knew the answer but didn't want to admit to it. But after a few moments, she sighed.

No, it wasn't all on him. Oliver might have been the first one to say something that overtly hinted at there being more than friendship between them-but he certainly wasn't the only one thinking like that. From the very beginning, Sara had pointed out that Oliver was interested in her. And Felicity had done her best to dissuade Sara from the idea, had worked really hard to ignore the way Oliver touched her and looked at her.

Because she had feelings for him, too. Very non-friend feelings, ones that she had felt since the very beginning. And while denial had been a perfectly acceptable way of coping with those feelings, that method had stopped working the moment Oliver made it clear that he was willing to do whatever she needed.

Damn it. It was bad enough that he was gorgeous. Like, ridiculously so, with that jawline covered in stubble which worked so well on him, and the shoulders and the arms that made his shirts look like they were straining to cover his torso. And his eyes-his eyes were completely unfair.

But what were the chances that someone who looked like Oliver would also be so . . . so _good_? Because that's what he was: good. Oh, she was aware that he had done things he was ashamed of, and not just while he was on the island. Yet the way he seemed to seek salvation for his failings, the way he was so determined to be a better man than he used to be . . . It was inspirational. It impressed her, made her respect him, made her admire him. It made her trust him.

It scared her.

Lust could be denied. Friendship was easy to accept. Respect and trust were good to have with anyone in your life. But when you combined all those elements and one person embodied all those things for you?

That meant you should be using an entirely different word. A word that shouldn't be scary but was.

The shrill ring of her phone made Felicity jump and she fumbled to pick it up. It was an unknown number and she frowned before answering. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Felicity?"

That wasn't . . . ? "Yes, it is," she said, wondering why someone who sounded like Tommy Merlyn was calling her.

"Hey, it's Tommy. Tommy Merlyn, Oliver's friend?"

Giving her head a shake but still feeling confused, Felicity sat up a little. "Yeah, I know you're Oliver's friend-I just don't know why you're calling me." She closed her eyes at how blunt that sounded, but it _was_ the truth.

Tommy let out a quiet snicker. "Man, you're awesome. I don't know anyone who says what they think."

Felicity couldn't help a small smile. "Most people, they realize how embarrassing that is and develop a brain-to-mouth filter."

"Well, from what Ollie says, you're not like most people-you're pretty unique."

Her smile dropped. "Is that why you called? To put in a good word for Oliver?"

"It is, actually. This is a new experience for us, by the way, so that's why Ollie's making such a mess of it. And why I'm stepping in." Tommy was attempting to be breezy, but Felicity could sense the seriousness underneath the charm and flash.

"A new experience?" she asked, stalling for a little more time to think this over.

"Trying to get a woman to forgive him-a woman that matters. Neither of us have ever had that happen before you. And Oliver, well . . ." He paused and Felicity imagined he was shrugging on the other end of the phone. "That island did a number on him, but what hasn't changed about him is when something or someone matters to him, he gets all turtle-like. Locks it all up inside until he's figured it out. And he still hasn't figured you out."

Felicity gripped the phone tightly. "Tommy . . ." Because how was she supposed to respond to this? What should she do with this information, with Tommy putting into words something she had already sensed about Oliver?

"Look, all I'm saying is, give him a chance, okay? _Some_ kind of opening, because he doesn't know what to do to make this right and he really wants to make things up with you." Tommy paused. "You seem really great and it'd be good to have you around. Not just for Oliver, either. Thea keeps saying how adorable you are and I think you're a breath of fresh air. So just think it over, all right?"

"I . . . I guess I can do that," Felicity said slowly. "Think it over, I mean. And then I'll decide what to do."

"That's all I'm asking, Felicity. Thanks for hearing me out."

She nodded, her brain still trying to catch up. But then she blurted out, "Tommy? If I don't give Oliver a chance, what do you think will happen?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then Tommy spoke, all the charm stripped from his voice. "I think he'd leave you alone for the rest of your life."

"Oh," she said. Because what else could she say, when she suddenly had to consider the idea that she wouldn't have Oliver in her life anymore?

XXX

This was why he didn't really drink anymore. It smoothed out everything around the edges, made what was difficult seem easy and what was impossible just difficult.

It made him feel like Ollie. Something that made Digg snort when Oliver said it.

"Now you're referring to one part of yourself in the third person? Man, I haven't drunk enough to deal with this shit."

Oliver snickered a little and grinned widely at Diggle. "There's still some Scotch left . . ."

"Oh, no, we are both cut off," Digg said, taking the bottle and moving it away from him. "Or else we'd need Merlyn to drive us home."

For some reason, that made him laugh. In the back of his head, he realized it was a dick move to make-laughing about how his one-legged friend would have to figure out how to drive them home-but again, he was a little too in touch with his Ollie side right now.

Digg looked at him over the rim of his glass as he sipped the last of his Scotch. "Hey, Oliver?"

"Yeah?" he asked, shifting in his chair and looking up into the darkness above him, feeling the beat of the music from Verdant as a low buzz in his bones. A buzz that went along with the three glasses of Scotch.

"You want to do that tour with Felicity, don't you?"

"Of course," Oliver said. "A month with her? Hell, yeah, I want to do the tour. But it would be the stupidest thing I've ever done. And . . . and that's sayin' something."

His partner nodded. "Because you would be leaving Starling undefended?"

"Yeah. But mostly . . . a month alone with Felicity? I've already gone too far with her-being alone with her that much, I'd tell her everything. And she doesn't deserve that."

Digg's eyes narrowed. "Maybe she should be the one deciding what she deserves, not you."

He sat up and pointed at Digg. "Don't make it sound like I'm scared of her or anything. She should be scared of me, you know."

"And again, you should be letting her decide that. C'mon, Oliver, about eighty-five percent of your problems would be solved if you'd just talk to the girl." Digg sounded annoyed but also amused.

Slouching down in his chair, Oliver shrugged. "I tried."

"Text messages are not talking. Ask Sara to get Felicity to Jitters and then go talk to her. It's that easy."

Sighing quietly, Oliver swirled his wrist, watching the harsh lights in the Foundry glint off the cut glass of his empty tumbler. "We haven't done this in a while."

"Yeah, I know," Diggle said. "With you back as BFFs with Tommy, I thought I'd let him handle your love life issues." Digg smirked a little and Oliver rolled his eyes, putting aside his glass. "But," Digg continued, "this is different. The problem you've got now, it's one I know about. Balancing your feelings with needing to get the job done."

Something about the seriousness of Digg's voice made Oliver take a closer look at him. Digg gave him a small, wistful smile. "I was married. But when we came home, we couldn't make it work."

Oliver straightened and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Was she from Afghanistan?"

"No, she was in my unit."

For some reason, that was more surprising than the idea that Digg had been married before. Although Oliver didn't really understand why he was surprised, but he certainly hadn't ever really considered Diggle's romantic interests. He knew the relationship with Carly had petered out, even before Carly had taken Digg's nephew and moved to Central City. But beyond that, Digg didn't really talk about dating or his life outside the Foundry.

"Yeah?" Oliver asked, letting Digg know he was listening but allowing him to decide how much to tell Oliver.

"Yeah," Digg said, finishing his Scotch. "When we were over there, things were simple. We went on missions, watched each other's backs. And in the down time, we were together. But then our tours were done, and . . ." Digg paused and let out a sigh. "I wasn't in good shape and couldn't fix myself. And Lyla knew she couldn't fix me, either. So after a while, we pulled the ripcord. She took a discharge and got out, I went back for my third tour. And then I got into private security and ended up here." He gestured around them, then looked at Oliver.

The fog had been lifting, but Oliver took an extra minute to get his thoughts in order before he spoke. "So . . . so coming home ended things. When you didn't have that shared purpose."

"That's the thing, Oliver-we did have one." Digg gave him a long look. "We had each other. That was our shared purpose. But I didn't realize that back then. So here I am. I like it here, but I still screwed up something I wish I hadn't."

There wasn't as much regret in Digg's voice as Oliver thought there would be. It was more matter-of-fact. But . . . but maybe some things went beyond regret. Perhaps some mistakes, ones that led to where you realized you were supposed to be, evoked a different feeling other than regret.

In the last seven years, he had made dozens of choices that had brought him to this point. Most of them, he regretted. But maybe that wasn't how he should look at them. Perhaps it was more about accepting they were unfortunate, difficult decisions-but if those decisions meant he got home, meant he had found the purpose for his life, should he regret them?

He rubbed a hand over his face. Epiphanies you found at a bottom of a glass weren't always real, Oliver knew, but he would definitely have to come back to this one. But for now . . . he took a deep breath and looked at Diggle. He was ready to ask Diggle for his opinion on what to do about Felicity, but at the last moment he chickened out. "Do you think-do you think it could have worked? You and your ex?"

Digg eyed him and they both knew Oliver had taken the easy route. But Digg didn't call him on it. Instead, he stood up and picked up his suit jacket. "If we had talked? Yeah, I think we could have worked."

Nodding, Oliver stood up as well. "Heading home?"

"Yeah, unless you want me to drive you to the mansion-"

"No, you don't have to do that," Oliver said. "I'll be here a while, and by then I'll be okay to drive."

"You sure? With your record you don't want another DUI," Digg said with a smirk.

Oliver laughed quietly. "Yeah, I know. I'll be fine."

With a nod, Digg turned towards the stairs, but paused. "Oliver? You know if you wanted to do that tour, I could stay here in Starling. Between me and Sara, and with Tommy . . . well, we'd at least be able to keep an eye on things. Let you-and your knee-get a break."

The shock and surprise must have shown on his face, because Digg just grinned. "Think about it," he said before he climbed the stairs, leaving Oliver alone.

For a few moments, he just stood in the middle of the space, contemplating what Digg had said. Had Digg just told him to go for it with Felicity, by removing the excuse Oliver had been using with everyone about why he couldn't do the tour?

Damn it, he totally had. The asshole.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite so hard for him to tap into that Ollie part of himself as he liked to think.

Yanking his shirt over his head, Oliver walked over to the mats and started doing pushups. When they weren't enough, he moved to the salmon ladder and did multiple rounds, trying to work out why he hadn't thought of asking Diggle for help. Because Diggle was right: with Sara and Tommy, he could hold down the fort here in Starling. After all, Diggle had done it before, when Oliver went running off to Lian Yu last summer, and he'd been by himself then. Why hadn't he thought of this before?

_Because you were scared_, his mind prompted. _You've been scared for months. But don't you want to stop being scared?_

And the only answer he could give was _yes_.

So that left him to figure out just what was this emotion seeping through him. It wasn't anger or frustration or annoyance. No . . . it was hope. And excitement. Because what if he did go on the tour? What if he got to spend a month with Felicity, learning even more about her, observing her and talking to her? Would it be enough for him to know if he was ready?

Ready for more?

Just the fact that he was even having this thought, that he was letting himself think about this, was so overwhelming that it took hitting the mats for Oliver to realize he had just done something for the first time.

He'd missed a rung on the salmon ladder.

But as he laid there, looking up at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath, he found himself grinning a little.

Oh-too-soon, he'd probably be back to thinking this was a bad idea. The worst idea. But for right now? It was a great idea.

He was going to spend a month with Felicity Smoak. And by the end of that month . . . he was going to know how he felt about her, and he was going to do something about it.

XXX

The fact that not only was Laurel calling before nine a.m., but she sounded wide-awake as well, should have been a clue that this phone call was big. But since Felicity had just woken up and hadn't had any coffee yet, she was a bit slow on the up-take.

"Felicity! I have good news and good news! So what do you want first?"

"Huh?" Felicity asked, blinking and pushing some hair out of her face before fumbling around for her glasses.

"I hope you're ready to be rich," Laurel said, sounding more excited than Felicity had ever heard her before. "I just sold _Scientific Magic_ to Hachette, and they're currently offering, before I've even started negotiating, a six-figure advance."

Felicity felt her heart pound. "W-what?!" she spluttered as she shoved her glasses onto her face. "Six figure-you mean, a hundred thousand dollars?"

"Actually, right now they're offering a hundred and fifty, but I'm pretty sure I can get them up to two hundred thousand," Laurel said, her voice so cocky and proud that Felicity felt her mouth go dry.

"Two-two hundred-I need to sit down. Oh. I'm already sitting," Felicity gasped out.

"Are you okay? Breathe, Felicity," Laurel said, her excitement dropping down a notch. "Nice and easy."

Sucking in a few breaths, Felicity tried to get herself under control. Ex Astris had been very good to her over the years, but her advances had always been fairly modest. Whether it was because she wrote nonfiction or that her books had been more critically acclaimed than popular with the mainstream, she had never really raked in the money. She had been comfortable, even on the verge of well-off, when _Treehouse_ had succeeded as it did. But an advance of over a hundred thousand dollars? She couldn't wrap her mind around it.

"You-you don't think it'll piss them off if you try to get more? I mean, it's so much already, Laurel . . ."

"And you deserve every penny. _Scientific Magic_ is amazing-I _cried_ while I read it, Felicity. Do you know how rarely that's happened?" Laurel asked. "Hachette loves it and they know if this deal doesn't happen, they're going to miss out on a lot of money. And after all the years you've struggled, I'm going to make sure you get compensated for that struggle."

She sniffed, feeling Laurel's belief in her wrap around her like a warm blanket. Because Laurel had struggled with her, too, through those years, and the fact that Laurel was getting her reward now, too, made it easier for Felicity to accept such a ridiculously large advance.

"Okay, Laurel. You know what my requirements are, so-so just go ahead and negotiate to your heart's content," Felicity said, adjusting her glasses and smiling a little.

"It's already started and I'm having a blast," Laurel said, reminding Felicity yet again that in some ways, her agent should be a lawyer. Laurel Lance was a shark in a nice suit.

Grinning, Felicity snuggled in against her pillows. "You said you had good news and good news?"

"Oh, do I. Ex Astris getting bought and spun off from Penguin Random House has become the best thing ever, because they've got cash coming out the wazoo. They want to send you on tour for _This or That_."

Felicity blinked. "What? But the book's nowhere near being ready!"

"They're fast-tracking-majorly fast-tracking it. They want you out there for a month starting next month, and they're producing a chapbook with the first chapter as a teaser. And they're already talking about BookExpo and ALA, too." Laurel paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was hesitant. "It's a joint tour. You'll be going with another Ex Astris author."

"I guess it makes more sense if it's not just me . . ." Felicity said, all set to ask who was going on the tour with her. But as soon as the question formed in her mind, she knew the answer. Knew from Laurel's hesitation, knew from Murphy's Law. "It's Oliver, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Laurel said tiredly. "I did my best to persuade them otherwise, since Sara told me you and Ollie have been . . . that things have gotten complicated."

Complicated. That was one way of putting it, Felicity thought with a slightly bitter snort. Ever since Tommy's phone call yesterday, she had been trying to figure out her Oliver problem. She wouldn't call it complicated-she'd call it a life-altering, life-ruining dilemma of epic proportions.

And that wasn't at all too dramatic a read on the situation, she was convinced.

"If you don't want this, Felicity, I can get you out of it," Laurel said. "It might mean breaking the contract, but you'd have the _Scientific Magic_ advance to live on and I could easily sell _This or That_ to another house-"

It would make things so much easier if she believed Laurel. If she thought she could get out of her contract with Ex Astris so simply. But Felicity knew it wouldn't be simple-that it could bankrupt her when she was on the verge of finally being financially stable for the first time in seven years. Because there was no way a newly-rich Ex Astris would let her go without an expensive legal fight.

"No, Laurel," Felicity said softly. "I can do the tour. It's just a month, right?"

"Right. And I've already started talking with them about your accommodations, what you will need for traveling and during your signings, all of it. It's your first tour-I want it to go well, Felicity."

She could hear how Laurel was trying to make the best of it. "You're amazing, Laurel," Felicity said, hoping all her gratitude came through in her voice.

"I just believe in you," Laurel said gently. "Don't obsess over the tour-focus on the _This or That_ revisions. And think up a way for us to celebrate together: you're going to be in New York after all, and I haven't seen you since I came back to Starling last year. We need to paint the town red."

"You, me and Sara," Felicity agreed, smiling a little.

"Yeah," Laurel said. "I'll talk to you when I know more, okay?"

Felicity agreed and hung up the phone, leaning back against her pillows. Her jubilation about _Scientific Magic_ and her first book tour had been muted, which made her feel strangely dissatisfied and unhappy. Or maybe not so strangely, because it sucked. It sucked that this limbo with Oliver had ruined what should have been one of the best days in her life.

And a chunk of the blame for today being spoiled had to rest on her shoulders. Because Oliver _had_ tried to get in touch with her. Yet she had rebuffed him, so was it any wonder he had stopped trying?

The thought of spending a month with Oliver with this . . . _thing_ left unsettled made her skin crawl. She was fairly sure she would go crazy-that she would completely lose her mind and do something incredibly stupid. Something that would really wreck their friendship and completely rule out the chance of something more.

Looking down at her toes, she picked at her chipping nail polish and made herself ask the question she had been trying to avoid asking. Did she want something more with Oliver?

Which was a stupid question. Because it implied there was some kind of choice she could make here. But the truth was . . . Felicity wasn't sure if she could make that choice. If there was any way she could not have Oliver in her life.

Tommy's words from last night rang in her head. _"I think he'd leave you alone for the rest of your life." _

She didn't want that. She didn't want to feel like this, as if some part of herself was missing, a part that she hadn't ever really thought about until it was gone. Perhaps that was exaggerating things, but she didn't want to give up on having Oliver in her life. Not before she figured out if they were truly just friends.

For a moment, Felicity gazed at her phone. Then, her mind made up, she searched her contacts and pressed the one for Oliver. The phone rang several times before it was picked up.

"Hello?"

It was so good to hear his voice, even scratchy and gravelly from sleep, that the feeling was like a physical sensation. She licked her lips and said softly, "Hi, Oliver."

Because she was holding her breath already, she knew the quiet sound of a breath being drawn in was coming from him. "Felicity?" he asked after a moment, sounding like he couldn't believe it was her.

Felicity nodded, even though he couldn't see her. Because she couldn't speak just yet. Because she had realized, when she heard him say her name, that she loved him.

So she did know if she and Oliver were just friends, Felicity thought. They weren't. Because you couldn't be 'just friends' with someone you were madly in love with.

End, Chapter 10

**Author's Note 2**: For those of you that are curious, BookExpo is the publishing world's major trade show, a time when publishers promote their forthcoming publications to booksellers, librarians and bloggers. It's normally held in late May, often in New York City. ALA Annual is shorthand for one of two annual conferences held by the American Library Association, which is a professional event for librarians that is typically in late June, and rotates to various cities around the country.


End file.
